


Phone sex near the Seine

by stormsonjupiter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angsty Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale reads a lot of erotic literature, Aziraphale thinks maybe he should try lingerie, Aziraphale's first orgasm, Aziraphale's first time, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is mopey, Crowley teaches Aziraphale how to masturbate, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Eventual Sex, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, I never thought I'd write something so fluffy but here we are, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Male Solo, Masturbation, Mild Kink, Morosexual, Mutual Masturbation, No Beta, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Orgasm, Phone Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Power Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Sexual Frustration, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO YOUR HAIR, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), hair play, kind of awkward, they're switches, very mild praise kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 12:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 83,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20340298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormsonjupiter/pseuds/stormsonjupiter
Summary: After the Apoca-wasn't, Aziraphale and Crowley spent 3 glorious months together with chaste cuddling. Crowley, however, wants something more and pulls away. When Aziraphale leaves on a trip to France, the two finally have the space to talk things out.  Crowley teaches Aziraphale how to masturbate, and their friendship takes a lusty turn.Can their relationship survive their newfound sexual intimacy? Do they ever learn to communicate well? Will they stop being idiots and just fork already? Let's find out!(This started as a simple 2 chapter piece, and now it's a whole thing, so there you have it)





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley fell, face-first, onto his bed the second he was alone. He whined pitifully into the satin sheets, his muffled voice betraying his desperation. Aziraphale. He wanted Aziraphale. And the close physical proximity the two of them had shared over the past few months was becoming intolerable. 

At first, Crowley was fine with the cuddling and the soft kissing. He thought he’d lost his Angel, and the weight of the loss broke him. Once the world was saved and heaven and hell were tricked, he found that needed to be with the angel, to know and feel that his beloved was safe. And when Aziraphale received Crowley’s physical affection with open arms, the demon felt like he was in heaven's graces again, overwhelmed by the ability to hold and be held by the celestial being that he had pined over for 6,000 years. It was intoxicating.

But after a few weeks, his imagination began to run wild, and lusty passions clouded his otherwise innocent intentions. When the angel’s comforting hands would linger close to Crowley’s hips and slide gently down the demon’s thighs, it caused a tingling want to permeate through his body. When he felt Aziraphale's fingers stroking his hair, he imagined the angel pulling it roughly. One evening, as he wrapped his leg around Aziraphale, he felt the angel’s hip rub against his groin, and it caused blood flow to the point of contact, and so he backed away quickly. He decided he best stop cuddling Aziraphale all together, lest his hard desire become apparent or he start rutting against the angel uncontrollably. 

He groaned, feeling himself becoming aroused. He undid his tight jeans, and slid his hand beneath them, rubbing his palm against his throbbing length. 

“Oh, fuck, Aziraphale,” he moaned, and he removed the restrictive garment completely, freeing his erection. He willed some lube onto his hand with a snap, and began to pump furiously, with teeth gritted.

…

Aziraphale inserted his room keycard into the little slot above the door handle, and waited for the little light on the lock to flicker green. It flickered red. He huffed, flustered and frustrated, pulling the key card out, and thrusting it back in, only for the same thing to happen. He double checked the number of the room against the number of the card. It matched. He pursed his lips and tried again, but still the lock flashed red. 

“Oh, confound it!” he whispered to himself exacerbated, and with a snap the door opened. 

“Whatever happened to good old-fashioned metal keys with metal locks?” he muttered to himself in a huff as he shuffled into the hotel room. It was a quaint space overlooking the Seine. Aziraphale had traveled to France for a book auction—some rare first editions had come up at Paris Southeby’s Auction House, and Aziraphale was eager to try and get his hands on them. The angel had hoped that Crowley would come with him—they could repeat their first date back in 1793 (Aziraphale had started calling it their first date, to Crowley’s absolute annoyance). The demon, however, refused the offer, claiming to have other pressing business at hand.

Aziraphale thought it impolite to ask him what it was that Crowley could possibly have to do now that the not-apocalypse was over, though he did wonder. Perhaps, he thought anxiously, Crowley was growing tired of Aziraphale. The two had, after all, spent an inordinate amount of time together since the day they switched bodies, passing every night for the past three months in either Crowley’s bed or intwined in one another’s arms in the bookshop. 

The thrill of being in each another’s presence without shame or fear of being caught had been exhilarating. Aziraphale felt as though he could spend eternity staring into Crowley’s serpentine eyes, tenderly combing his fingers through the demon’s red hair, and feeling their lips pressing against one another with gentle, soft pecks. 

At first, it seemed as though Crowley had scarcely wanted to let Aziraphale go. The demon would tightly wrap his arms about his companion every chance he could, and whining whenever the angel wiggled out of the embrace to get some cocoa, or wine, or a new book. Crowley confessed to the angel that he had been very torn up over the thought of losing Aziraphale on the day the earth was almost destroyed, and it appeared as though the demon took out his raw emotion in the form of caressing hands, soft kisses, and desperate cuddles. 

The intensity of their physical connection had felt wonderful to Aziraphale, who (as a being of love) felt quite at home receiving the doting attentions of Crowley. He welcomed the demon’s body as it nestled against his own. He enjoyed the feeling of Crowley’s leg winding in between his, as his arm resting across the angel’s soft midsection and his face buried in Aziraphale’s shoulder. He loved to stroke the demon’s back, gently scratching his way up and down, feeling his muscles tense and relax underneath Crowley’s soft, black shirt.

But over the past week or so, Crowley’s attentions seemed to wane. Aziraphale noted that he began to use his phone again, thumbing his way through Lord knows what. Physically he began to maintain a distance from the angel, even as they relaxed in bed together, though he allowed Aziraphale to hold his hand, or rest his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He stopped instigated caresses and embraces, and seemed aloof. 

When Aziraphale received a call from one of his book dealers informing him that a prized first edition was suddenly up for auction in Paris, his heart skipped a beat. Paris, oh how lovely, he mused to himself, remembering the crepes he and Crowley shared that day in 1793. 

Perhaps a little holiday would rekindle their spark?

But Crowley seemed very disinterested when presented with the prospect of a getaway, and persuaded the angel to go by himself. Aziraphale was disappointed, to say the least, but he went nonetheless. 

He now sat on the bed, which was covered with a heavy, white down comforter. He sank back, letting the bed envelop him in softness. He looked up to the ceiling and sighed. 

He missed Crowley. Maybe he should call him?

He considered this for a moment. He didn’t want to be a pest. If Crowley’s affections were indeed waning, it may be best to let the demon’s heart grow fonder through the angel’s absence—both physical and emotional. 

But, on the other hand, his not calling seemed a little like playing some sort of game. If Crowley had truly not wanted the angel to call, he ought to have told him. 

Besides, even though heaven and hell had stopped bothering them (for now), there was always an off chance that the demon was in some sort of trouble. Discorporation was now something that neither could really risk, for where would they find another body? 

“Right, then,” Aziraphale said to himself as he sat up. “I’ll just give him a call, and when he picks up the phone, I’ll simply say, ‘Hello, love—love? oh no, best start with dear. Hello, dear—yes that’s better—hello dear, I am just checking in, I have just arrived in my hotel room, it is really quite lovely, and it overlooks the river! There’s no need to worry, just making sure all is well, and hoping you are having a wonderful evening.’” Aziraphale let out a satisfied little sigh, and smiled resolutely. 

“Perfect, that will do quite nicely, I think. Simple, to the point, you don’t mean to be a bother, you are just making sure everything is tickety-boo.”

The angel nodded and looked about the room for the telephone, which he saw positioned on the table next to the bed. 

He lifted the handset, unsure of how to make an international call, but he knew that that 0 usually meant operator, so the thought he’d give that a try. 

“Oui, Monsieur Fell,” a breathy voice said on the other end of the line, from a woman who must be working at the hotel’s front desk.

French, right. “Bonsoir, Madame, ehh, je voudrais…”

“It is alright, sir, I can speak English,” the voice repeated back with a thick French accent.

“Ahh, yes, thank you. I would like to make an international call. Can you assist me with that?”

“Certainly sir,” the voice said a little flustered. “But..you can just make the call directly from your room, in the future.”

“Oh, I see,” Aziraphale replied. “Well I just wasn’t sure, with these phones you know.”

“Of course. If you give me the number.”

“Ah, yes here it is,” Aziraphale had Crowley’s cell phone number memorized, and he recited it with a little pride. 

“And the country?”

“England.”

“And you know that international rates will apply?”

“Of course.”

“Very well. I am making the call now and transferring you. Have a good evening.”

…..

Crowley wanked off a total of three times, before finally succumbing to sleep. 

The first time he climaxed, it happened quickly. He really only had to think of Aziraphale’s delightful smile, and he felt the rushing waves of pleasure spew forth from him in streams of creamy spunk that soiled his black sheets. He normally lasted a bit longer, but he supposed that the physical closeness between angel and demon had resulted in enough sexual frustration to lead to a swift ejaculation. 

The second time was slower and more sensual. He edged for a while, thinking about Aziraphale’s lips pressing against his, craving to know what his tongue tasted like. He imagined the angel’s soft flesh, naked and pressing against him. He pretended that Aziraphale had intentionally rubbed his hip against Crowley’s shaft—that the angel was playing a game, and had similarly lusty thoughts about the demon. He slowly built up the heat, working his hand and fingers deftly over his lubricated cock, twisting slightly at the base and making sure his downstrokes had a bit of weight behind them. When he came, his hips bucked wildly, and he allowed them to swerve and gyrate as he fucked his own hand. 

The third time was pure hedonism. He pulled up some porn on his phone, and found a video of a slightly chubby blonde top pounding into a skinny, red-haired bottom. It was a video he’d found some time ago, and had saved. If he set the phone far enough away, it was easy for him to imagine that it was he and Aziraphale. He summoned a thick dildo, which he could position on the floor, and with some lubricant he eased himself down, eventually riding himself into an orgasm to the sounds of the porn stars moaning in excess pleasure. 

With the third and final orgasm of the morning, he yawned, and sprawled out on his bed, completely naked. Sleep soon overpowered him, and he fell into a deep slumber for several hours, until his phone began to buzz.

….

There were a few beeps and a click, and after a moment Aziraphale heard the phone ringing. He waited, patiently. One ring. Two. Then three. The angel started to feel a little panic as it rang a fourth time. Crowley always answered relatively quickly—perhaps something had happened?

But soon, after the fourth ring, he heard the phone pick up, and a familiar voice croaked through the line.

“Hello?”

“Hello my lo—dear,” Aziraphale said, catching himself. “It’s me. I just wanted to let you know—“

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, his voice cracking and sounding a bit groggy.

“Oh, my dear, are you well?”

“Fine, Angel. I was just sleeping is all.”

“Oh, well I am sorry to disturb you, I won’t keep you. I am just calling to report I have made it to my hotel room, and the view is lovely, and I do hope you have a pleasant evening.”

“Oh, alright Angel,” Crowley said with a yawn. “Having a good time then?”

Aziraphale paused. He wasn’t expecting Crowley to ask him a question. He had to think fast. 

“Yes,” was his curt response.

“Hmm,” grumbled Crowley. “Glad to hear it. Well, then, if that’s all….”

The demon’s voice lingered, and Aziraphale felt butterflies in his stomach. Before he could stop himself, the angel suddenly blurted out, “I miss you, my dear.”

There was a long pause. ‘Oh no,’ Aziraphale thought. ‘It was too much, I should not have—‘

His frantic thoughts were interrupted by Crowley’s gravely voice saying, “I miss you too, Angel.”

Aziraphale’s heart leapt. “Oh, really Crowley, do you mean that?”

“I do,” the demon replied, his voice still low.

“Well it’s just, my dear, you have seemed rather distant lately, and I wasn’t sure if it was something I had done or said or if you had grown bored with me, I was hoping it wasn’t, but then I couldn’t help but…” the angel continued to ramble on until Crowley spoke up. 

“Angel, Aziraphale, it’s alright, I’m not…you haven’t done anything, it’s not you, alright? It’s me.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale replied, his brows furrowed with concern. “What is wrong with you?”

Crowley laughed. “Well I’m a demon for a start.”

“Well, my dear, we all knew that already. But you also are a little bit of a good person.”

“So you say, Angel.”

“You are!” Aziraphale whined. “Now stop this self-deprecating talk, or I’ll march back to England right now and…and scold you!”

Crowley’s hearty laugh rang through the phone receiver. It wasn’t meant to be a joke—Aziraphale had been quite serious about the whole matter, but for some reason it amused Crowley. 

“Scold me! Oh, Angel, you’re adorable, do you know that?”

“Well,” said Aziraphale taken aback. “I just don’t want you feeling bad about yourself.”

“I don’t,” Crowley replied with a sigh. “Well, I do, I really do, but there’s nothing to be done about it, and I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Please, Crowley, won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

There was a pause on the line. Aziraphale’s heart beat quickly in anticipation, his breath becoming uneven. He clutched the handset with both hands, waiting for the demon to reply. 

“It’s, I just…I don’t want to move too fast for you, Angel,” was the demon’s eventual response. 

“Too fast for me?” Aziraphale echoed the words back, remembering the time he said something to that effect all those decades ago.

“Right. I thought I lost you, and I…I never want that to happen again.”

“Well, you won’t my dear. There. It’s settled.”

“But I..oh Aziraphale, I,” the demon stammered over his words.

“What is it my dear?”

“I’ve been having…thoughts about you.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale was both intrigued and confused. 

“The sort of thoughts that I probably shouldn’t have. Feeling things that I probably shouldn’t feel. And I think I just need to…sort them out. On my own. I thought maybe getting some sleep would help.” Crowley let out a little yawn at this.

Aziraphale had no idea what Crowley was talking about. 

“So, let me see if I have this right, Crowley,” Aziraphale repeated back. “You’ve been distant because you’ve been having thoughts and feelings…about me…that you think are….”

“Inappropriate.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale, still completely oblivious. 

“And unreciprocated,” Crowley uttered. 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale replied. “Well, my dear, what are these thoughts and feelings? Perhaps they are reciprocated, and we just don’t know it yet.”

“Are you serious, Angel? You haven’t figured it out, what I’m saying?”

“Well, you’re saying—“

“Lust, Angel. Sex. Carnal knowledge. Fucking. Making lo—oh, for Satan’s sake, this is really just—“

“Oh!” gasped Aziraphale, his heart fluttering rapidly in his chest. “Is that all?”

“Is that—are you serious right now?”

“Well, yes my dear. It’s just sex.”

“Just sex?!” Crowley yelled into the phone. “Wait, now hang on, you mean to say that you are fine with sex?”

“Well, I suppose I must be,” Aziraphale replied resolutely. 

“Have you done it before?” Crowley asked.

“Oh, heavens no! Who would I...with? Besides you, of course,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

Crowley coughed, and it sounded like he dropped the phone. Aziraphale waited patiently until he heard some rustling, and finally a panting voice spoke into the receiver, “You would have sex? With me?”

“Of course my dear, if you wanted to give it a go, I’d be more than happy to try. Especially since we do both seem to love each other very much. When the humans do it, it seems as though love is a key ingredient for the most profound instances of sexual gratification.”

Crowley wheezed into the phone, his breath overpowering the receiver in a loud gust. 

“I’m sorry, Crowey, have I stepped out of line?”

“No, Angel, not at all.”

Aziraphale smiled, and relaxed a bit, opting to kick off his shoes and swing his legs onto the bed. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. We can perhaps try when I get back?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Crowley’s voice was breathy. “Can...can I ask you something?”

“Anything, my dear.”

Crowley swallowed. “Have you ever…thought about it?”

“Sex? Of course I have. Though, I suppose I’ve never really made an effort.”

“Hmph,” Crowley replied. 

“Well how about you, my dear? Certainly you must have tried—“

“Never had sex with anyone except myself.”

“Interesting! And what is that like?”

“Well…you could…try it,” Crowley’s words hung on the air. "If you wanted."

“I suppose I could,” Aziraphale replied slowly, looking down at his groin. 

He had male genitalia. It has seemed easier, especially back in Ancient Greece, to have a phallus, and he never really thought about changing it. 

“How does one…do that?” Aziraphale asked, biting his lip. 

“Oh..angel…shall I talk you through it?”

“I do think you’d better.”

…

Crowley wasn’t sure if what he was having a panic attack, but his heart felt like it was ripping out of his chest. He sat on his bed, naked and resting against the headboard, his phone on speaker. He could scarcely believe the conversation he was having with Aziraphale—was he dreaming? He pinched himself a little in the thigh and winced. It wasn’t a dream. 

He swallowed. “Would you like me to talk you through it…now?”

“Oh, would you?” was Aziraphale’s breathy reply. “I mean I suppose we could wait, but if you don’t mind…”

“I don’t mind, at all, Aziaphale,” Crowley replied, licking his lips. His own cock began to harden slightly at the thought of Aziraphale stroking himself. 

‘Hold yourself together, Crowley,’ the demon thought to himself. 

“Right, well, you’ll need to be undressed. Are you undressed?

“Oh, no, I’m not, hold please.” There was a slight thud as Aziraphale placed the phone on a hard surface. Crowley waited patiently, and began stroking himself, feeling his erection growing. 

He eventually heard some muffled noises, and Aziraphale’s cheery voice spoke once again. “I wasn’t sure if I should get completely undressed, so I decided to do so, just in case.”

‘Oh, Somebody, naked Aziraphale,’ Crowley stifled a whimper. 

“Are you relaxed?” Crowley asked.

“I think so…rather…”

“You should be relaxed. Tell me, what relaxes you?”

“Well, you do my dear.”

“Mmmm,” Crowley’s own hand briefly sped up at hearing this. “What about me?”

“Well, when we are in bed together, next to one another, I suppose your presence relaxes me.”

“Think of something a little more specific angel. Something sensory-based.”

“Oh, well…I suppose your hair, combing my fingers through it, makes me feel calm.”

“Mmmm, that’s good Angel,” Crowley purred back. “Think about that, think about combing through my hair. Imagine how it feels against your fingertips as you slowly drag every digit over my scalp. Are you imagining it?”

“Yes, Crowley, I am. It’s so very nice, your hair. So soft and thick.”

“Now,” Crowley instructed, “as you think about combing your fingers through my hair while I press my body against yours, I want you to take your—“ 

‘Fuck…what should I call it?’ Crowley wondered, ‘Cock or dick isn’t quite right for Aziraphale…penis is too clinical…’

“Take your member in one of your hands, and gently stroke.”

“Oh—okay,” Aziraphale replied. 

“Are you doing that?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good. It’ll be soft at first but keep tugging at it, and keep imagining my body pressed against yours as you run your fingers through my hair. Are you imagining it?”

“Mmm, yes, Crowley.”

“Good. How does it feel?”

“It feels…nice. It’s—oh!” Aziraphale let out a little squeal. “There was a little tingle and a jerk. I think…I think it’s working!”

Crowley bit his lip so that he didn’t let out a chuckle. 

“Good, Angel, I’m glad. Is it getting hard?”

“Yes, I daresay it is! And long, my goodness Crowley, it really does grow.”

“Nnnf,” Crowley groaned, feeling his own length pulse in his hand. The thought of Aziraphale stroking his long, hard cock was really pushing the demon to the limit. 

But he had to focus. 

“Okay, now, have you encircled it with your fingers and started pumping?”

“Er—y-yes Crowley, I have. I’m sorry, was I supposed to wait for your instruction?”

“No, Angel, you do what feels best.”

“O-okay, Crowley,” Aziraphale panted back through the receiver. 

Crowley’s own hand was stroking with greater vigor, as he heard the unsteady breath on the other end of the line. This was the most erotic thing Crowley had ever done, and holy shit what he wouldn’t give for Aziraphale to have a smart phone, so that they could see one another.

“Crowley, should I be doing anything else?” a desperate voice squeaked.

“Yes, you should. You should be imagining me, grinding my erection against your hip, feeling how hard you make me.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale let out a surprised gasp. Crowley smiled rakishly. 

“Did you like that, Angel?”

“Y-yes, I did,” Aziraphale stammered. 

“What about that did you like?”

“The part where you were also hard.”

“Well, I’m hard now.”

“You are?”

“Incredibly hard, Angel. I’m currently touching myself. I can’t help it. You make me overwhelmingly hot.”

“Oh, my dear!” Aziraphale squeaked.

“You do. Your face. Your thighs. Your ass. The way your body feels next to mine. I just want to ravage you, pleasure you until you are nothing but a whimpering heap of celestial matter in my arms.”

Aziraphale let out a throaty groan, and Crowley’s heart beat quickly, his lust building to a point. He could stave off his orgasm, he wanted to, but it was going to take a great deal of effort. 

“Fuck, angel, I had to pull myself off of you, and act distant because I couldn’t let you see how hard you make me. I couldn’t let you feel my throbbing dick grinding against you as I held you in my bed. 

“Oh Croowleyyy,” moaned Aziraphale. 

“I had to pleasure myself three times today Aziraphale. Three. I was so sexually frustrated that I couldn’t stop coming. I didn’t want to. You make my dick ache with desire, and I have to touch it, stroke it, or else I may discorporate from pure want. Every time I thought the pleasure was over, I’d think about you and my erection would immediately return—I thought about your smile, your smell, the way you run your fingers through my hair—“

“Mmm, Oh, OH my God, Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphle shouted euphorically through the phone. 

Crowley, in response, let himself go, pumping with extra fervor before ejaculating with a guttural shout. 

…

Aziraphale realized that for the past few minutes, his eyes had been shut tight. He opened them, finally, and took stock of the white, sticky mess he had made.

“My dear,” he said into the phone. “I seem to have achieved climax.”

“O-oh good,” was the breathy response, “Me too.”

Aziraphale smiled, lifting his eyebrow. He looked back down at the mess on his stomach, and gingerly stuck a pinky in the substance, swirling it about a bit, before slowly touching it to his tongue. 

“Hmm,” he mumbled thoughtfully at the bitter, salty taste. 

“You alright, Angel?” Crowley asked.

“Yes, Crowley. Absolutely perfect.” Truth be told, Aziraphale hadn’t felt this utterly satisfied, perhaps ever. “And you? Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, I am,” Crowley rasped in reply.

“Glad to hear it, my dear boy.”

There was a silence that followed. Aziraphale tried to think of something to say, but it seems that their bodies had said it all for them. He looked out the window—it was getting late, though he supposed there wasn’t anywhere he needed to be until the morning. 

He swallowed, unsure of what to do next. 

Crowley finally broke the silence, “Well, Aziraphale, I suppose we are a bit speechless after that, aren’t we?”

“I suppose so!” Aziraphale laughed. “Is that normal?”

“Well…I think that depends. But…often times one does find themselves a bit spent after such activities.” This was followed by a sharp yawn. 

“Oh, my dear, are you tired from the exertion?”

“A bit,” Crowley confessed. “But I can stay on with you, if you like.”

“No no,” Aziraphale replied. “It is getting late, and I do have to study up for tomorrow’s auction.”

“Of course you do, Angel. Shall I say goodnight then?”

“Yes. Goodnight Crowley.”

“Goodnight. And, Angel?”

“Yes?”

There was a brief pause. “I love you.”

Aziraphale broke out into a broad smile. “I love you too, my dear.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's bad day is about to get much, *much*, better, with a surprise from Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I decided to make this a thing. A slow burn thing. So no sex-sex...yet. 
> 
> We gotta work our way around all the bases, you know?
> 
> Anyways, this is my first really fluffy piece, so I hope you enjoy.

The auction, and indeed the rest of the day, had been somewhat of a disaster for Aziraphale. 

To start, he woke up late. Somehow, the angel had fallen asleep, completely naked on top of the comforter, and he blinked his eyes open at 10:00, having set no alarm. The auction had started at 9. He miracled himself dressed and scurried down to the first floor, where he took a taxicab—to the wrong address. 

His French, it turned out, was really abysmal. 

Once he had figured out where he needed to go, and eventually hailed another taxicab, he finally found himself at the auction house, only to arrive just in time to watch his beloved first edition sold to a buyer who was phoning in his bid through a proxy. 

His mouth dropped in protestation. The nerve! The person, whoever they were, couldn’t even make their way to the auction house in person for so precious a book. How dare they!

Frustrated and disappointed, he wandered out of the auction house, and decided that he might as well find something to eat. Crepes, he thought, sounded marvelous, and he wandered the streets determined, but he could not find what he wanted. There seemed to be all manner of patisserie and cafe, but there was a shocking lack of establishments that offered the wonderfully buttery promise of a well-crafted crepe. 

He settled on a croissant. It was flaky and had a delightful little crunch, but it did not satisfy the way he knew only a strawberry and chocolate crepe would. He sighed, admonishing himself slightly for feeling so forlorn over wanting something specific to nibble, and he slowly meandered his way back to his hotel. 

It was late in the afternoon by the time he’d arrived. 

“Ah, Monsieur Fell!” A voice greeted him as he walked through the lobby. It was the hotel manager. 

“Monsieur, I am terribly sorry, but there appears to be a problem with your room?”

“My room?!” Aziraphale asked taken aback. He wondered what the problem was—he had cleaned up after himself last night—hadn’t he?

“Oui, and I apologize for the inconvenience, but we have had to move you. We do hope you will find your new accommodations to your liking,” the man said with a slight bow, holding out another room key. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips in annoyance as he took the keycard. It really was beginning to be one of those days where nothing seemed to work out. 

He looked at the number, and it appeared to be at the top of the building. He went into the elevator and found that he actually needed to insert the keycard into a slot in order to access the top floor. Luckily an attendant in the elevator was there to help him ensure that it all worked properly. 

The elevator ascended quickly, and he thought about Crowley. He really needed to hear the demon’s voice, even if it was all the way on the other side of the Channel. It would make his day so much better, he thought. He didn’t even need phone sex (although, he wouldn’t mind it).

They slowed to a halt, and Aziraphale walked out of the doors, to find that the elevator itself opened up into a private suite. 

…

Crowley drummed his fingers on the oak table, waiting for Aziraphale to arrive. The whole scheme had taken quite a bit of last-minute planning. He had flown to Paris in the night, made an important phone call, bought the most expensive box of chocolates he could find, arrived at the hotel at around noon, and did a little demonic miracling to convince the staff to move Aziraphale to the best suite the hotel had to offer. He…may have caused a pipe to burst in the angel’s original accommodations, to hasten the move. 

Once the suite was ready, he ordered room service—crepes, obviously, and champagne. And all the desserts the kitchen could bother to make. After an hour or so, the staff wheeled in three whole carts of food and drink. 

Crowley looked around, situating the scene just so. With a snap he then filled the room with roses—red and white. 

‘Too much?’ he wondered as the floral aroma filled the space. 

“No,” he said aloud. “I think this will do.”  
A phone call announced the arrival of a package, which was then delivered to the room. It was wrapped with thick shiny white paper and a ridiculously ornate bow. He looked about the suite and decided to set the gift on the table. 

There. Everything was just perfect. Now all he needed was Aziraphale. 

And so the demon waited…and waited…and waited some more. The food, he feared, was turning room temperature, so he did a small miracle to make sure everything that needed to be heated was heated, and everything that was chilled remained chilled. 

He looked out the window, seeing the river below, and people holding hands as they walked along the paved banks. He sighed. He missed Aziraphale, and he was anxious for the angel to arrive, but bloody hell he was taking his sweet time. 

Crowley yawned, and stretched his arms up towards the ceiling, feeling a little bit drowsy. He could will himself awake if he really wanted to, but a quick nap to pass the time didn’t seem like a bad idea. He stretched himself onto the bed, and closed his eyes, thinking of Aziraphale.

…

The elevator doors shut behind Aziraphale, and he hesitantly stepped into the hotel suite. It was decadent, with baroque paintings and gold fixtures. He saw a charming breakfast nook with a lovely oak table and chairs, surrounded by what looked like several carts of food. And a bucket with champagne! The angel’s mouth dropped. He saw what looked like a present on the table, and his eyes wandered curiously about the space. 

Was this how all hotel suites were? He wondered, and inhaled deeply, smelling the floral aroma of roses that he now noticed decorated the room. 

“How charming!” he exclaimed, taking a few steps towards the center of the room. 

But hold on! Was that… he smelled again. There it was. A warm, spicy scent that he knew all too well. 

“Crowley?” He asked aloud, looking about the space.

“Angel?” A groggy voice croaked from around a corner, followed by some thumping noises. The demon’s head then poked out, his hair sticking up in every direction, his yellow eyes blinking and bleary. 

“Aziraphale, you made it!” Crowley exclaimed excitedly, his voice cracking. He leapt across the room, and embraced the angel tightly in his arms. Aziraphale sighed in relief at the contact, feeling the anxiety and frustration of the day melt away. 

Crowley kissed him softly on the cheek and pulled away, looking into the other’s eyes. 

“You’re here!” Aziraphale yelped with surprise.

“Couldn’t spend another minute without you, Angel.” Aziraphale’s heart leapt at hearing this. “How was your day? Did you get your book?”

The angel let out an exasperated breath thinking about the morning, his eyes widening, lips trembling, and brow furrowing into a sad little pout.

“I didn’t Crowley. I accidentally slept in, got lost, missed the auction, and oh, I couldn’t find any crepes anywhere!” Aziraphale cried petulantly. 

Crowley jutted out his lip and raised his eyebrows in a sort of mock pout. “No crepes?”

“Not one!”

“Well, don’t fret Angel. Here,” Crowley walked over to a cart, and with a bit of bravado, lifted the lid off of one of the dishes, revealing crepes filled with strawberries and chocolate. “I believe there are some savory ones as well, if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“Oh, my dear!” Aziraphale gushed, his mouth widening into a cheery smile that made Crowley feel weak at the knees. He rushed to the cart, grabbed the plate and silverware greedily, and situated himself at the oak table. 

“Would you care for some champagne?” Crowley asked, pouring a flute. 

“Oh, yes dear, that sounds lovely.”

Crowley poured a second, and offered one to Aziraphale. 

“Cheers,” he said, and they clinked their flutes together, letting the bubbles tingle against their tongues and cascade down their throats. 

“My dear, you have no idea how much this all means to me, for you to be here,” Aziraphale said before stuffing his mouth with a large portion of crepe. 

Crowley smiled, his heart beating fast. “Anything for you, Angel.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled as he looked up at Crowley. The demon pulled out the chair and sat next down, watching as his companion licked the fork clean. 

The sight stirred something in Crowley, and his tongue fluttered absentmindedly out over his lips.

Aziraphale noticed this, and gingerly dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“My dear,” Aziraphale said after a swallow. “It is wonderful to see you, and truly this whole thing is a delicious surprise, but it is rather decadent, don’t you think?”

Crowley frowned a little. “Is it…too much?”

Aziraphale looked down, and pursed his lips to try and hide a smile, resulting in a coy sort of expression that drove Crowley wild. “Well, I don’t know about that…”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat at seeing the angel happy. He took a swig of champagne, and decided now was as good a time as any to give Aziraphale his present. He picked up the box from the table, and handed it to the angel. 

“Here. A little something…for you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he inspected the package. “For me?” he squealed delightfully, and he sat it on his lap. “Really, Crowley, you shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.”

“It’s worth it angel. Please…open it.”

Crowley was a little nervous. He hoped the angel would be happy and not…angry. 

Aziraphale opened the gift with painful slowness, delicately undoing the bow and removing the ribbon. He flipped the package over and slid his fingers beneath the paper so that he could gently lift the tape, and was careful not to rip or crinkle anything. 

Waiting for the angel to open the present was a form of torture for Crowley, who really just wanted to watch him rip the damn thing open. But he was patient, studying Aziraphale’s eyes as he finally removed the wrappings and lifted the lid from a thick, white box.

Some paper obstructed whatever was inside, and Aziraphale gently moved it aside, only to find…

…the book he had wanted from the auction. 

“Oh, Crowley!” he beamed, “It’s the book!”

“It is.”

“But how did you—? Oh you sly devil!” He slapped Crowley lightly on the chest.

Crowley chuckled softly. “Do you like it, then?”

“Oh, my dear Crowley, it’s perfect. Absolutely. I thought I had completely ruined my chances of getting this, but now…” His heart fluttered with excitement, and made a quick decision. He gently moved the box to the table, careful not to get it anywhere near the food, and he leaned in close to Crowley, kissing him softly on the lips. 

The demon inhaled sharply through the nose at the gentle contact. He wanted, desperately, to grab Aziraphale’s lapels and stick his tongue roughly in the angel’s mouth. But he held himself back, opting instead to clench the arm handles of the chair until his knuckles turned white. 

Aziraphale pulled back, looking deeply into Crowley’s eyes. His eyes had a sly twinkle, and he bit his lower lip before moaning. “Oh, Crowley,” he whispered, and planted his mouth upon the demon’s again, but this time gently letting his tongue slip across Crowley’s lips. 

Crowley groaned, and in turn opened his mouth, letting his tongue touch Aziraphale’s. The angel opened his mouth a little wider, and Crowley slipped inside, tasting the warm, wet sweetness that reminded him a little bit of chocolate and strawberry crepes. 

Aziraphale lifted his hands to Crowley’s shoulders, and squeezed them tightly. Their tongues continued to mingle together, as both angel and demon felt themselves becoming aroused. 

Crowley pulled back first this time, needed to collect his wits about him. “Oh..angel..” he panted, his chest heaving with warm flutters of excitement and desire. He was overwhelmed with affection and want. It felt as though he was falling, but this time into something electric and passionate. His whole body began to ache for Aziraphale’s touch. 

Azirphale blinked open his eyes, and smiled at Crowley, studying his face first, and then looking up at his hair. It was the first time he noticed the bedhead, a mass of disheveled tendrils sticking out every which way. The angel chuckled. 

“My dear Crowley!” he exclaimed teasingly. “What has happened to your hair?!”

“My…hair?” Crowley asked alarmed, his hands shooting up to make sure it was still on his head. 

Aziraphale laughed. “It usually is so well put together, my dear, I’m surprised your vanity allowed you to be seen in such a state.”

“I—“ Crowley was at a loss for words. His hair did feel unkempt, and he considered snapping it into order, if that would please Aziraphale, but the angel lifted a hand and brushed his fingers over his scalp with slow, meaningful movements. Crowley hissed.

“Perhaps we should go to the bed, and I can make sure that your hair is…that everything is alright with it.” Aziraphale was not particularly good at intentionally flirting, or being subtle, but Crowley was intrigued anyways. 

“I—yep, yeah, we can do that, sure,” Crowley croaked, and the pair stood up. The demon nearly stumbled—his legs had become rather weak at all of the recent events, but he caught himself, as he followed the angel back to the bed behind the corner. 

Aziraphale sat on the edge, his hands folded neatly in his lap. He patted the mattress next to him, beckoning Crowley to sit down. The demon gulped, and obliged. 

“Perhaps, my dear, would you like to rest your head here, on my lap?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Sure,” croaked Crowley, trying not to seem overeager. His own cock had begun to stiffen at the whole scene, and he slid himself down on his side, facing away from the angel as his head rested on fleshy thighs. 

He feared if he looked at Aziraphale he would orgasm on the spot, and he really didn’t want to risk that. 

“Hmmm, my dear, your hair is lovely,” Aziraphale cooed, dragging his fingers over the crown of Crowley’s head, and pressing deeply into this scalp. 

“Mmmph,” was all Crowley could reply.

Aziraphale let his fingers gently scratch down the back of his skull, down to the nape of his neck, and then he ever so slowly reversed directions, moving his hand against the direction of hair growth as he combed through the thick red locks. The angel bit his lip, feeling the softness against his fingers, and letting the euphoric groans spilling forth out of the demon resting in his lap lull him into a sense of utter relaxation. He rubbed Crowley’s scalp, gently pressing his fingers and thumb over back and up to the top of his head and in small, circular movements. 

“Nnnfff, Aziraphale that feels,” Crowley purred, his cock beginning to stir anxiously in his tight jeans. 

“Yes, my dear?” Aziraphale asked with a breathy gasp.

“Amazzssing,” Crowley hissed. 

Suddenly Aziraphale began to feel a throbbing ache as an erection made itself known. It had been slowly growing for some time, but the hiss from Crowley made it twitch into a position that neither he, nor the demon, could ignore. 

“Oh!” he gasped in surprise, as his shaft pressed against the head resting in his lap.

Crowley noticed the stiffness, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to look at Aziraphale’s face. He turned over in a graceful, serpentine movement and looked up at the angel, who had removed his hands from Crowley, holding them aloft, and wearing an expression of guilty surprise on his face. 

The demon smiled wickedly. “Enjoying yourself, angel?”

“Well..”Aziraphale swallowed, unsure of what to do next. He supposed this was to be expected after their lascivious phone call the night before, but the reality of the situation was a tad overwhelming. He didn’t want to do anything wrong.

Crowley sat up, and gave the angel a wet, sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue inside Aziraphale’s mouth eliciting a moan, before retreating with a smacking of lips.

“It’s alright, Angel,” he said with a low, gravely tone. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

“Are..you enjoying yourself?” Aziraphale asked shakily. 

“Very much so.”

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale nodded, looking down. “That’s good.”

“It is,” Crowley said, trying to read his partner. “But…what is it, Aziraphale?”

“Well, I don’t know what to do.” 

“Ah.”

“Only, I’m not sure I’m ready for…well…”

“Oh, angel, we don’t have to do that. We can take our time. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Are you sure, Crowley?”

“Of course. I could rest my head in your lap and feel your hardness press against me for eternity, if you wanted.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide.

“Really. Just having you stroke my head is enough to…” he stopped himself.

“What Crowley?”

“Well, I’m already really, really turned on.”

“Are you?” Aziraphale asked with interest, his eyes flickering down to the demon’s jeans. He saw the outline of an erection, and he licked his lips. 

“Would you….like to see?” Crowley asked spreading his legs and rolling his hips a little at the offer. 

“Oh, yes I would,” Aziraphale replied greedily, and Crowley went to unbutton his jeans. 

“Oh, no, please. May I?”

Crowley nodded, his heart racing with anticipation. 

“Do take off your shoes, my dear, and come sit back here further on the bed, if you don’t mind.”

Crowley grinned, and did as he was asked. 

Aziraphale wiggled his way next to the demon, and with shaky breath he began to let his fingers wander over his torso. He started by undoing the buttons on Crowley’s waistcoat, then his shirt, with painful slowness.

‘Oh, Satan, he’s unwrapping me like the present,’ Crowley thought with equal parts frustration and lust. This was going to take a while.

And it did. Aziraphale tenderly undid every button, slowly exposing the demon’s skin at a remarkably prolonged rate. With every new inch of flesh, the angel delicately danced a finger over the skin, eliciting groans from Crowley who was being driven mad with every teasing touch. 

Aziraphale wasn’t really meaning to tease the demon, but he was going to savor every second of exposing his skin. It was like Crowley was some sort of rich delicacy he had ordered from the Ritz. The demon would have to be patient, and use everything in his power not to ejaculate too early. 

Once the shirt was totally unbuttoned, Aziraphale slipped it off of Crowley’s shoulders, exposing his long arms. He dragged a finger over the muscles, squeezing the shoulders and tracing the lines of sinews. Goosebumps peppered Crowley’s skin at the touches, and he shuddered. 

Next, Aziraphale went to his jeans, gently slipping his index finger along the waistband and sliding it around from hip to hip. Crowley bucked and let out a load groan, and Aziraphale removed his finger. 

“Is that too much, my dear?”

“Oh fff—-Angel, no, it’s not, it feels…good. Really, really good,” Crowley said with clenched teeth. He was really trying not to come. 

Aziraphale swallowed, and very, very slowly undid the button. Crowley gasped. The angel then pulled down the fly, gently letting each of the zipper’s teeth unlatch one by one. It felt like an eternity. 

Aziraphale noted the silky briefs underneath, and slowly spread the jeans open at the fly. He gingerly dragged his pinky over the silky underwear, and could feel the base of Crowley hardness. 

“Oh fff—-Aziraphale,” Crowley roared in response, thrusting his hips upward.

“Oh my, you did seem to enjoy that, didn’t you?” Aziraphale replied enthusiastically. 

“Mmm” was all Crowley could say, trying very, very hard not to come. 

‘What is it that humans do?’ the demon wondered to himself, ‘thinking about baseball and…other unsexy things…’ 

His mind briefly wandered to Hastur, the least sexy thing in all of creation, and his orgasm was staved. For now.

Aziraphale licked his lips, and worked on sliding the jeans down off of Crowley. They were tight, and Crowley had to lift his hips aloft so that Aziraphale could gently pull them off, careful to leave the underwear on. 

Once he had done that, he turned his attentions back to Crowley’s groin, sliding his hands slowly up the demon’s thighs, and resting them on the silky fabric, but not touching the stiffness. 

“You look delicious, my love. Absolutely scrummy.”

“Scrummy?” Crowley asked with a little scoff lifting his head to look at the angel. It was not exactly the hottest word—but then again, this was the being he’d fallen in love with. 

“Oh yes, very scrummy,” Crowley groaned at hearing the word again, though not out of lust. 

“Is this alright my dear?” The angel asked, biting his lip. 

“I…think you should get on with it, if you don’t mind,” Crowley responded, trying not to sound too desperate, but really aching for some release. 

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Aziraphale said eagerly, and he slipped his fingers around the waistband of the underwear, ever so softly feeling the warm flesh beneath. 

“Nngk,” Crowley mewled, and rested his head back into the pillows as gentle fingers teased his hips. 

Very slowly Aziraphale pulled down the silky underwear, eventually freeing Crowley’s erect cock. 

“Oh my dear!” Aziraphale gasped admiringly. “You really are quite something. So long! And beautiful.” Aziraphale licked his lips. “May I touch it?”

“Oh, hell, I wish you would.”

Aziraphale dragged a finger over the silky skin, rubbing gently over veins and the head. It felt wonderful, and the angel’s heart raced with excitement. Crowley groaned desperately. 

“Shall I…encircle you, like this?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, curling his strong hands gently around the shaft. 

“FFuck, yessss,” Crowley hissed, his hips beginning to gyrate in serpentine motions. 

Aziraphale began to pump, sliding his hand up and down, feeling the throbbing erection beneath his grip. 

“Do you like that, my dear?”

“Very, very much so, yes,” Crowley responded. “Keep…keep..ahh…going.” 

Aziraphale obeyed, thinking about what felt good to him last night, and stroking his partner with steady, determined pumps. 

Crowley felt the pleasure building up inside of him now, and it was going to be hard to hold himself back. He exhaled shakily, groaning and writhing underneath Aziraphale’s lusty gaze. 

“My, this is lovely, my dear. You are so beautiful, you know. The way your hips buck, oh, yes just like that,” Azirphale cooed adoringly. “Your face is making the prettiest expression, my love. No no, keep your eyes shut! There you are, yes. Just relax. Oh and I see your tongue, your gorgeous tongue, licking those pretty lips of yours. How marvelous you are, my love. I am truly so very lucky.” 

The praise was really getting to Crowley, who felt a burning heat spread into his abdomen and thighs. His knees tingled, as pleasure rose inside of him with deep, penetrating waves. 

“Shall I go a little faster for you now?” Crowley could only groan in response, and Aziraphale decided to pump a little faster, working his way up and down the shaft with focused determination. 

“Oh fuck, Aziraphale, Fuck I’m going to..”

“Oh, do come for me my dear. Please. I very much want to watch your lovely face and phallus climax.”

And that was enough to send Crowley over the edge. His hips bucked into Aziraphale’s hand, fucking his palm with wild abandon as pleasure pumped through his cock and rippled out in streams of sticky cum that landed all over his stomach and the angel’s hand. With one final thrust, he let out a loud sigh, and looked up at Aziraphale. 

The angel’s eyes were dark with lust, his mouth agape in surprise. Crowley smiled and cleared his throat. 

“My love, that was beautiful,” Aziraphale murmured, turning his gaze from Crowley’s dick to his eyes. The angel bit his lower lip. 

“I couldn’t hold back any longer, Aziraphale. I’m sorry, I did want us to come together.”

“Oh, well, but this was absolutely wonderful,” Aziraphale purred, miracling away the mess on his hand with a snap before lifting it to Crowley’s hair and stroking him affectionately. 

“Thank you, Angel.”

“Don’t mention it,” Aziraphale said scrunching up his nose, but smiling. 

Crowley swallowed, looking up at the celestial figure who sat over him. He slowly dragged a hand over a thick thigh, which was skill unfortunately covered with stuffy wool trousers. 

“Can I…tempt you…into switching positions?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale blushed, batting his eyelashes and turning his face away coyly. 

“Please Angel,” Crowley asked with a low voice. “Let me…”

“Well…since you asked so nicely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this fluffy smut. Comments and suggestions are always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still in the hotel room in France, Crowley gives his first blowjob. 
> 
> But emotions run high as a small misunderstanding leads to a small quarrel.

Crowley sat up, leaned into Aziraphale, and kissed him deeply. The angel chirped softly at the contact, and steadied himself by placing his hands on the mattress behind him. 

Crowley pulled back, and looked into Aziraphale’s face, and noted that his pupils were dilated with lust. The demon swallowed and licked his lips, and slowly lifted his hands to Aziraphale’s bow tie, very eagerly wanting to rip the tartan fabric away from his lover’s neck. Aziraphale’s heart was racing with anticipation, and his chest heaved uncontrollably. 

Crowley held his hands on the bowtie, and looked back into the angel’s eyes once more for approval. Aziraphale nodded, his mouth agape and his breathing shaky. Crowley's long finger started working the knot, and he drew himself back towards the angel for another long, wet kiss, massaging the Aziraphale's tongue with his own. Aziraphale groaned, and lifted one hand to cup the demon’s cheek. 

The bowtie, however, was tied with expert precision, and undoing the knot was proving to be frustratingly difficult for Crowley (who never saw the appeal of wearing bowties anyways). After a minute or so of trying, he pulled himself away from Aziraphale's lips, and with a snap, the angel was suddenly only wearing his cotton undershirt and boxers. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale yelped, quickly covering his abdomen with his arms in a self-conscious pose. “That was rather unexpected, my dear.”

“Too fast, Angel?”

“Well…” Aziraphale looked down, feeling a little awkward. In theory, he was perfectly fine being exposed to Crowley—after all, they had seen one another naked throughout history on numerous occasions. But the cool air rushing over his arms and shoulders, and his belly suddenly unhindered by the protection of wool trousers and waistcoat made him wonder if Crowley could, in fact, be attacted to him sexually. His corporeal form was very decidedly unlike Crowley’s own. Perhaps he ought to change it…'lose the gut,' as Gabriel said. 

“What’s wrong, Angel?” Crowley whispered. He gently lifted his hand, and stroked Aziraphale’s cheek with the backside of his fingers affectionately. “We, don’t have to do this, if it’s too much.”

“No, it’s not that,” Aziraphale said with a sad smile. “I do, actually, want this very much—especially after last night.” The corner of Crowley’s mouth turned up into a sly grin at this. 

“But, well, I wish for you to enjoy this as much as I am, and I’m not entirely sure that, well, that my appearance can possibly be as pleasing to you as, say, yours is to me.” The angel looked back down at his thick thighs, still covering his stomach defensively. 

“Oh…Angel,” Crowley said gently, and he pulled him in, kissing Aziraphale on the neck in a way that made the recipient feel warm and tingly. The demon then brought his mouth up to the angel’s ear, and began to whisper, his warm breath tickling the sensitive auricle and drawing shivers up Aziraphale’s spine.

“You are perfect, Angel,” Crowley murmured, and Aziraphale let out a small moan. “Everything about you—your smile, your thighs, your stomach, your nose, the way you laugh—it all makes me incredibly turned on. There is nothing in this entire universe as tempting as you.” Aziraphale let out a small gasp, his eyes shutting tightly as he felt his body tingle with arousal, and Crowley’s cock began to harden again. 

“Fuck, Angel,” Crowley continued his whispers, and he kissed the lobe of Aziraphale’s ear, sucking it lightly until the angel let out a quiet yelp. “Just being this close to you is making me hard again.

“Is it?” Aziraphale asked with measured excitement. 

“Ohhh,” Crowley purred, moving his face down to the Angel’s neck and letting his hot breath flitter over the soft skin before planting his lips right at the pulse, sucking briefly, and drawing back with a fluid movement. 

“It is. It really is.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes were still shut, and a small “Oh!” escaped his lips when Crowley sucked at his neck.

Crowley then positioned himself so that he was up on his haunches, his body facing the angel’s side, and he brought his arm around Aziraphale’s back, clutching the undershirt. 

“And if you’ll permit me to undress you completely…” the demon purred into Aziraphale ear, sliding his other hand gracefully down the angel’s torso and finding its way underneath his folded arms. 

“…it would make me harder than I’ve ever been before.” 

With both hands Crowley gently pawed at the soft flesh covered by a cotton undershirt, pulling Aziraphale in closer until their bodies touched and the angel could feel Crowley’s chest writhe and heave against his shoulder. Crowley then swerved his hips into Aziraphale’s side, teasing his own hard cock gently against the angel’s fleshy love handle.

Aziraphale swallowed, feeling pleasure swell at every point of contact. He gasped slightly, and looked down when he felt the demon’s erection graze him, noting that Crowley was, indeed, again hard. 

“Well…when you put it that way…” Aziraphale said, looking hungrily into Crowley’s eyes. The demon smiled and bit his lower lip before fisting Aziraphale’s undershirt and ripping it over the angel’s head, exposing the rest of his soft, pale torso. 

“Oh, Angel,” he moaned and gently pushed Aziraphale back so that he rested supine atop the fluffy comforter. The angel wiggled a little, making sure his legs were comfortable, and absentmindedly folded his hands over his stomach—not defensively anymore, but in a natural position that he was accustomed to. 

Crowley’s yellow eyes were heavy with lust, and he immediately moved his face down to the angel’s chest, licking and sucking the soft flesh and eliciting surprised yelps of pleasure. His tongue then swirled around a pink nipple, and Aziraphale gasped. 

“Oh, oh my dear that’s…” he couldn’t finish the sentence as the sensation was igniting intense waves of pleasure, and his hips started to buck. His hands unfolded from his stomach and moved to his sides, and the angel began to grasp the comforter with tight fists. Crowley pulled back and looked down at Aziraphale’s cotton boxers, which had a small spot of precum on them. 

“Mmm, Angel,” he growled with an almost wicked tone, and he brought his tongue back to Aziraphale’s torso, licking his way down the abdomen, and stopped when he reached the top of the cotton waistband. 

Aziraphale groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. Crowley sat back up, and slid his hand underneath the elastic, feeling the soft skin and hair underneath the angel’s boxers. His fingers then found the base of the shaft, and with some excited moans from Aziraphale, Crowley wrapped his hand around the base. The other hand stretched out the elastic waistband, pulling it over Aziraphale’s shaft and sliding it partway down over the angel's hips. 

He didn’t quite get the garment entirely off, but it was too late to worry about that now. Aziraphale’s erect cock was free, and Crowley panted in admiration, his stomach fluttering with excitement as his hand stroked up and down in fluid motions. 

“Oh, Aziraphale, you’re so bloody gorgeous, fuck,” Crowley groaned, his mouth and eyes wide as he ogled the angel’s erection. 

Aziraphale let out a soft moan as he felt Crowley’s hand move up and down, and his eyes fluttered open to see the demon’s lusty gaze staring at him in awe. Aziraphale smiled in surprise at the scene—he was really surprised to find that his own body could draw out such a strong physical and emotional reaction from the demon. 

“Thank you, my dear,” he said sheepishly, bringing a hand gently towards the demon’s knee. He couldn’t reach Crowley’s own hard shaft, but he did note it with satisfaction. 

“Angel, can I,” Crowley licked his lips, “Can I kiss it?”

Aziraphale groaned, blinking his eyes at the prospect. It did sound intriguing. 

“Oh, well, if you want to my dear, you certainly may.”

Crowley let out a hiss before bringing his mouth down to kiss the head. Aziraphale gasped a little, and Crowley then stuck out his tongue, licking the shaft first and working his way slowly up. It was smooth and silky against his skin, and tasted a little salty.

“Oh, oh my!” Aziraphale yelped, his hips bucking up slightly at the sudden wet contact. The slickness added a whole new level of intensity, and electric heat pulsed through his core. He felt as though he was going to achieve climax very soon.

Crowley continued to pump with one hand, while he kissed and licked the shaft. His hand eventually increased speed, letting the saliva act as a lubricant, while Aziraphale yelped and cried incoherent noises of euphoric pleasure. 

Crowley looked up at the angel’s face, his brows raised in ecstasy and his mouth open in a perfect little ‘o.’ There was something he wanted to try—he’d seen the humans do it plenty of times, but he thought it might take a little caution to get it just right. As he continued to stroke Aziraphale, he exhaled, and he opened his jaw widely, sliding the hard cock deep into his mouth, feeling its tumescence fill him as he moved his head slowly down the shaft. His tongue massaged the underside as he worked his way back up and down again. 

“Ohh—FUCK,” Aziraphale yelled at the suddenly wet tightness that encircled his throbbing erection. The pleasure now erupted all over his body in hot waves, and his hips thrusted upward rhythmically as he felt himself ejaculate deep into Crowley’s mouth. It was, perhaps, a bit sooner than either party would have liked, but Aziraphale really could not help himself.

The demon swallowed, excitedly, pumping the base quickly and ensuring that he sucked every last drop of pleasure. With one final yelp and thrust, Aziraphale’s hips stopped bucking, and the angel panted. 

Crowley removed himself from Aziraphale’s cock, and slid up his body, staring curiously into his face. The angel looked at his partner with satisfaction, and nodded approvingly. 

“That was…very…very good…my dear,” the angel stammered. 

Crowley smiled proudly, feeling as though swallowing the Angel’s cum was the best sort of wahoo he could ever get. 

The two stayed there for some time, silently panting and letting out soft giggles. Eventually Aziraphale remembered that Crowley had grown hard again. 

“My dear…would you like me to…” and he gestured down towards Crowley’s groin, “would you like me to do that to you?”

Crowley’s heart swelled at the offer, and he kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. 

“Thank you Angel. But not right now. I think…I think right now I just want to hold you. If that’s alright.”

“Oh Crowley, it’s more than alright,” Aziraphale cooed with a satisfied wiggle. He kissed the top of the demon’s head, burying his nose in a mess of red hair. Crowley sighed, nuzzling his face into the angel’s shoulder, and kissed the warm skin. 

Night crept into the room, and soon they both fell into a deep sleep. 

...

When morning came, Azirphale woke to find himself alone in bed. 

“Crowley?” he called out, but there was no response. His heart fluttered with anxiety for a moment. ‘I hope he didn’t leave,’ he thought with worry. ‘What if he regretted last night? What if…what if I wasn’t good?’ His eyes darted about, and he finally saw a piece of paper resting on the pillow next to him, next to a box of chocolates.

With shaky hands, he grabbed the note and read it, recognizing Crowley’s sprawling handwriting. 

“Good morning, Angel. Went to get some coffee, don’t fret. Be back soon. Have some chocolate. XX”

“Oh!” Aziraphale sighed with relief, and he laughed at himself. His eyes glanced over to the box of chocolate. 

“Well…” he said, “I might as well…”

And he lifted the lid, seeing an assortment of chocolate delights. He selected a smooth one that he found was filled with raspberry mousse. 

“Delicious,” he said as he smacked his lips approvingly, before selecting another piece. He decided then to get up, stretching his arms to the ceiling and fussing with his blonde curls. He looked about for his clothes, finding them neatly folded on a chair. He smiled, realizing that Crowley thought to take care of his things, and he slowly dressed himself. 

….

Crowley walked to a cafe down the street from the hotel. Stretching his legs felt good, as did getting a little fresh air. He moved with a little extra confidence in his sway, nodding to strangers who stared at him as he passed. He was accustomed to being noticed by humans, but today it seemed that his glow was even more alluring. 

He picked ordered two coffees, to go, and waited for his order. The cafe was small, but had a charm that he was sure Aziraphale would like. It even played Mozart over the radio.

Crowley looked about, staring at an old couple as they walked hand in hand. Normally he didn’t let himself smile at public displays of affection, but today his heart felt warm and big, and he grinned.

The waitress handed him the two coffees, and Crowley grabbed them, sauntering back to the hotel. 

…

Aziraphale had started looked more closely at the book Crowley purchased him. He dare not open it without gloves, but he inspected the spine admiringly. The lock then clicked, and Crowley waltzed in, carrying two coffees.

“Crowley, my dear, good morning,” Aziraphale bubbled, bouncing his way over to Crowley and squeezing him tightly. The demon practically dropped the two coffees.

“Careful, Angel, you’ll make me spill,” the demon hissed, and Aziraphale backed away, smiling sheepishly and his cheeks turning pink. 

"Apologies my dear."

Crowley sighed with a little frown, even as his heart melted a little at the sight of his beloved's blush. He handed Aziraphale a coffee. 

“Oh, thank you!” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

The angel sipped the coffee before speaking again. “Well, what should we do today?”

Crowley looked out the window nonchalantly. “Order room service? Go to the Louvre? Suck each other off?”

“Crowley!”

“Well…” the demon glanced back at Aziraphale with a devilish little smile. “It was just a thought.”

“Really, my dear, that’s very crass.” Aziraphale admonished with a purse of his lips and a haughty expression that said ‘oh good Lord.’ 

“Oh, well, if *that’s* beneath your grand, celestial standards Angel, perhaps I ought to go back to England, let you pout here a bit while I take matters into my own hands,” Crowley was teasing, of course, but his tone was sharp, and Aziraphale felt a wave of disapproval

The angel clicked his tongue in censure. “Really my dear, you are being dramatic.”

At this, Crowley scoffed. 

“Me? Being dramatic? Oh that’s rich, coming from you.” Crowley’s banter began to take on a more serious tone. 

“And what does that mean, my dear?”

“You know perfectly well what that means, Aziraphale. You absolutely can be a bit ridiculous.”

"Oh can I? Name one time."

"Ahh, well let's see. There was France, 1793, that, oh, that was immensely ridiculous. Oh and the ordeal with the Nazi spies, bloody hell Angel, that was absolutely--oh OH and how about getting yourself discorporated, I mean honestly."

Aziraphale huffed a little, holding his nose up. "I forgive you."

"I'm sure you do," Crowley said snarkily under his breath, taking another swig of coffee. 

Aziraphale tutted, but said nothing back. The two of them, irritated, drank their coffee in silence. After 6,000 years they had had their share of quarrels, often bantering like an old married couple. 

But after last night things seemed different—a little more tense. A relationship, after all, doesn’t just become sexual overnight without some sort of emotional fall out—especially if there was 6,000 years of frustration and pining behind it. 

Crowley sighed eventually, turning his head to Aziraphale. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said all that. You're not ridiculous you're...you're perfect. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Aziraphale looked over at him, his mouth still pressed together in a little haughty pout.

“I think you had better go back to England, Crowley.”

“And you’ll…what, just stay here?”

“Yes, I think I must.”

“All by yourself, in this gigantic suite?”

“Well, I might downgrade after you leave.”

“Ah. And what, may I ask, is the reason for this desire to push me away?”

“I don’t mean to push you away,” Aziraphale said in earnest, looking to Crowley’s eyes pleadingly. “I just think that, perhaps I need a few days to adjust to our new….arrangement.”

“Arrangement?!" The word stung Crowley, perhaps a little too deeply. "Right. Well,” Crowley stood up, feeling utterly spurned and hurt. “Fine. I’ll go. Got…things to do anyways. Loads of things.” Crowley sniffed, and began to walk to the door. 

“Really, Crowley, it’ll only be for a couple of days.”

“Yep, sure, it’s fine,” Crowley responded with a flat tone as he reached the door. “Bye, Angel he said, turning his head back to look at Aziraphale, waiting to see if his lover would stop him. But the angel remained stationary, clutching the coffee with both of his hands, and looked as though he was in no hurry to prevent the demon from leaving. 

“Bugger it,” Crowley snarled under his breath, swung open the door, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along! 
> 
> Does Crowley fly back to England? 
> 
> Will Aziraphale purchase a smart phone and download porn? 
> 
> Do the ineffable husbands ever stop being dumbasses?
> 
> Find out next time (whenever I can update again)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things have gotten tense for our lovers, and Crowley spends several days sulking and drinking. 
> 
> Aziraphale decides to learn as much as he can about sexual pleasure and love, so he does a bit of research, and seeks advice from Madame Tracey.
> 
> NO SMUT in this one, sorry. Well, not any overt smut, but smut like things happen. I'm holding out for the next chapter (final chapter, maybe?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I didn't have time to edit this, but I wanted to get it out today. I'm sorry if there are typos--note any that really bother you in the comments, and I'll get to editing this as soon as I am able. Apologies! I hope it still works for you.

Aziraphale sat in the hotel for several hours, replaying the events of the morning (and the night before) over and over again in his head. 

This new side of him, the sexual side, was incredibly exciting and a tad daunting. The pleasure he received in both giving and taking from Crowley had opened up a whole new world of physical enjoyments. 

But it also unleashed new anxieties. The pangs he felt when he looked at Crowley had another level of intensity, and were backed by the fear that he might be doing something wrong. And on top of that, he had never been truly self-conscious in front of Crowley, until last night.

He now finally understood why humans often said that sex made things complicated. 

He sighed, and looked out the window, realizing that the sun had passed its zenith. He considered going outside—perhaps a little late lunch would make him feel better. But, no, he thought solemnly. There was no food in France that would satisfy. Everything about Paris reminded him of Crowley. 

He thus made a decision to return to his bookshop, and partake in some heavy research. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more this seemed like an excellent plan. He would read about love and sex—the physical act, the emotional ramifications—and next time he saw Crowley, he’d be wiser and ready. He did have some erotic books in the store, so he’d start there. He might even phone Madame Tracey. When he inhabited her body he could immediately tell that she was very knowledgeable on the subject.

He thus finally popped out of his chair with a little clap of his hands, and went to the reception to check out of the hotel.

…

Back in London, a demon sat in a dark pub with an empty bottle of whiskey and a full mug of beer. He had been in England for a total of 5 hours, and had been drinking solidly for 4.5 of them. 

“Bloody arra—arrange—arr—arrangementt’,” he slurred to himself. “Thasss thass all this e’er was *hic* to th’ Azira—Azirangel Fell. Angel Fell.” Crowley laughed a little at the world fell, but his laughter turned to a small sob.

The bartender had taken notice of the drunken redhead’s intoxicated rambling growing louder, and thought he might bring him some coffee and water. 

“Here ye go, lad,” the bartender said. “This’ll help ye feel better, eh?”

Crowley sniffed, looking down at the coffee, and then back up to the bartender.

“Thass what I did. I brought him coffee too,” he said with a sniff, his mouth bent into a sad frown. “This *hic* morning. Thass all I wanted t’ do. Thought it’d be ni—ni—nice.” It was hard to get that last word out. 

The bartender sighed, awkwardly giving the man a gentle *pat pat* on the shoulder. “There, there, it’ll be alright,” he said somewhat reassuringly. 

Crowley just sighed and looked at the coffee, his lower lip jutting out in despair. 

“Well, you drink that coffee, and water, and you’ll feel better in a little while,” the bartender said before leaving Crowley to his own thoughts. 

Crowley groaned, deciding he had better sober up and find another establishment. Or go home and crash on his bed. Either way, he felt that if he stayed here much longer, he’d probably be thrown out, and he really wasn’t in the mood to scuffle with humans. 

He sobered up with the table vibrating, and the whiskey bottle was suddenly, once again, full. He left money on the table, and found his Bentley with a ticket on the windshield. He tossed it aside and sidled into the drivers seat, feeling slightly calmed after he slid his hands over the smooth steering wheel. 

“You’re a good car,” he muttered to the Bentley. “You’ve always been there for me.”

He turned the key, and the engine roared to life.

Queen’s “Love of My Life” began playing, and Crowley scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Well, maybe you’re not *that* good of a car,” he groaned, as the dulcet voice of Freddie Mercury began to sing ‘Love of my life, you've hurt me…”

“Right then. More alcohol it is.”

…

It was practically nighttime when Aziraphale finally arrived at his bookshop. He jauntily placed his overcoat on the rack, and turned to his collection of vinyl, selecting one of Mozart’s concertos. Once music was playing, he heated up some cocoa, and set to work, looking about his shop for any and all erotic literature. 

He began with the ancients—Catullus, Ovid, the anonymous Priapea—but Sappho was always his favorite (though it was perhaps somewhat less graphic than other authors).

“ I would much prefer to see the lovely way she walks and the radiant glance of her face than the war-chariots of the Lydians or their footsoldiers in arms,” Aziraphale read aloud with a smile. The passage very much encompassed how he felt about Crowley. He decided to write it down. 

He next decided to turn to Shakespeare, remembering that Venus and Adonis was thought to be rather scandalous at the time. He poured over the verse, his chest thumping wildly, until a particular passage made him decide to stand up and get a cool drink of water: 

“Now is she in the very lists of love,  
Her champion mounted for the hot encounter:  
All is imaginary she doth prove,  
He will not manage her, although he mount her.”

Aziraphale had read this verse before, but had never felt the stirring heat that was creeping over him now. He imagined, briefly, what it would be like to mount, and be mounted by, Crowley like a steed. Something stirred in his groin, and he let the cool sip of water bring him back to his wits. 

Shakespeare was well and good, of course, but this particular poem was perhaps not what he was looking for. The lust was there, of course, but there were a few measures about the relationship being about lust and not love, and that which he felt for Crowley was a deeply intense love. He knew that there must be something to instruct him on how to use lust as a way to express love through sexual pleasure—that’s what he really wanted to do. 

He spent the night perusing erotic literature from the 17th-19th centuries, but it was disappointing. Most of it was too ribald, or overwhelmingly shameful. It all made the angel blush out of embarrassment, and not out of lust.

There was one book, "The Sins of the City of the Plain," that was rather explicit—but he couldn’t condone many of the acts described therein—it all seemed like pure hedonism that was more about men exerting power over other humans than it was about love, and there were some troubling issues with age and consent. 

He did, however, find some helpful instructions when it came to certain positions, so he took notes. Saliva around the erection would ease the phallus when entering certain cavities (which required lubrication and stretching). There was also a bit about slapping the partner with rods, and in addition, he learned that some people preferred to be the giver, and some the receiver. 

Aziraphale wondered, for a moment, which he might prefer. He supposed he’d need to try both to really find out, but if he was honest with himself—the decision might come down to Crowley, as it was his pleasure that made him the most excited. 

He thought about trying to open himself up, and he wetted his fingers in his mouth, and began feeling around the opening in his backside. It was too awkward to do on his own, however, and he really couldn’t get the hang of it, so he gave up.

Aziraphale looked around his shop for more erotic literature, but couldn’t find anything else. He perused some of his favorite works about romantic love—Austen and the Bronte sisters in particular, but they lacked the physical expressions of love that he desperately wanted to explore. 

When morning came, he decided to phone Madame Tracey. What he wanted, what he really needed, was something that combined lust with love, and nothing in his shop seemed quite right. 

….

Crowley went to four other drinking establishments over the course of the evening and night, getting properly inebriated at each of them, then sobering up before he got behind the wheel of his Bentley. Every time he started the ignition, the treacherous vehicle would play ‘Love of My Life,’ and the demon’s heart would break again.

When he finally pulled up to his apartment at around 4 in the morning, he put the car in park and let the song finish, gently singing along: 

“I will be there at your side to remind you  
How I still love you - (i still love you)

Ooh, back - hurry back  
Please bring it back home to me  
Because you don't know what it means to me  
Love of my life.”

A few tears fell down his cheeks, and he clamored out of the car, and up to his flat. There, he collapsed into the sheets, letting out a little cry, and eventually falling into a deep sleep.  
…

Aziraphale went to Madame Tracey’s, and she made him a nice cuppa before they sat at the table. Luckily, Shadwell was out doing—whatever it is that Shadwell does now—and he could speak openly to the lady. 

“What seems to be the trouble, then?” She asked, her eyes warm and her voice reassuring. 

“It’s Crowley,” he said, taking a sip of tea. 

“Trouble in Paradise?”

“I should say so.”

“Oh, dear,” she fussed, “it’s alright. Happens to all of us. Tell me what’s botherin’ you and I’m sure we can figure out how to set it right.”

“Well, you see, a few nights ago we…” his voice trailed off as he tried to think of the word. 

Madame Tracey nodded, “Shagged?” she suggested. 

“No! Well, not exactly,” Aziraphale confessed, “but I think that…may…be on the table…in the future.”

“I see,” Madame Tracey said completely un-shook. 

“Only, I don’t exactly know what I’m doing, and I’m afraid I’ve rather made a mess of things.”

“Oh, my dear,” she said with a click of her tongue. 

“Well, I mean what we did was…wonderful,” he said with a cheery smile. “But, but I don’t really know what to do next. And what if…what if I get it wrong? And oh, I’ve read so many books on the subject, but they don’t exactly provide the sort of information that I require.”

“And what information is that, love?”

“How to express lust, and love. You see many books have one but not the other.”

“Ohhh, I see,” she cooed, and thoughtfully took a sip of tea. 

“So I was wondering if you might be able to assist me? Tell me what I should do?”

“Hmm. Well, I’m sure I could give you some guidance, but really, the key is about communication.”

“Communication?”

“Yes. You must be open with your partner—-goodness me, I didn’t mean that literally!” she laughed.

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed, and his lips pursed, unimpressed. Madame Tracey cleared her throat and regained her composure. 

“Right, well, if you speak openly with your partner, admitting what you want and what you don’t, and finding out the same from them, it’ll make the whole thing a lot easier to navigate.” She pat him gently on the hand.

“I see,” Aziraphale said with a nod. “And what if neither of us know what we want until it’s in the moment? And then, what if it’s too much.”

“Oh, well then you should choose a safe word.”

“A…safe word?”

“Oh yes. Something that can be said whenever either party wants to stop, for whatever reason. As long as you trust the other person, it really can open up your relationship.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale replied thoughtfully. 

“You know what, my dear. I have some magazines that *may* help you with this,” and she immediately got up, and rifled through a box. “Articles and things about love and sex and pleasing your partner,” she gave a little wink. “Of course, most of this is written for women about pleasing men…”

“That won’t be a problem,” Aziraphale answered quickly. “And oh, thank you so much. I do really appreciate it.”

Madame Tracey produced a healthy stack of magazines. Some were the sort you’d find on any magazine rack—Cosmo, and other similar titles—but some were very specifically geared towards women in certain professions. Magazines that had BDSM in the title, and featured images of tight leather straps. There was also an old issue of Playgirl. 

Aziraphale picked up the stack, and nodded his thanks, promising to return them as soon as he was finished.

“Keep them. I don’t need them anymore,” Madame Tracey said with a twinkle in her eye.

…

Crowley awoke in his bed, completely naked, and his dick rock hard. He began to stroke it absentmindedly, feeling its fullness in the palm of his hand. He was still half asleep as his hips began to swerve into the motion, setting a rhythm, and his mind started to wander to the thighs and lips and tongue of….

…Aziraphale. He felt a sharp pain in his heart, thinking about the angel. He had convinced himself that, whatever, Aziraphale felt for him wasn’t, in fact, the same sort of love Crowley had been swimming in for the past 6,000 years. Aziraphale was just being nice to the demon, a little tit for tat, like their arrangement. 

It wasn’t enough for Crowley. He needed more than an arrangement. He needed..he needed…

He didn’t know what he needed, exactly. He moaned, and rolled back over, letting his erection soften naturally, without any more stimulation, and he fell back to sleep. 

…

Aziraphale read every magazine from cover to cover over the next day with great interest. There was, indeed, some very good advice, he thought, and he had pages upon pages of notes to help guide him to his next steps. He decided was to do something completely wild and…get a smart phone. 

The process of getting a phone was rather irritating, however. The salesman was insisting on him signing many forms, and figuring out various plans, and models, and covers. It took several hours when he had finally walked out of the store, and the angel was properly frustrated. But, he didn't let the experience deter him. Aziraphale then made one more stop for another even more important item (which took much less time) and he made his way back to SoHo.

At the bookshop, he read the instruction manual from cover to cover, although it was written with a very poor understanding of clarity. 

He huffed, and looked at the glass screen, which said locked every time he touched it." 

“Unlock mobile telephone, please” he commanded, but nothing happened. His brow furrowed. That command seemed to work whenever the demon used his phone. He went back to the instruction manual, and there was something about setting up voice command, but it was all too overwhelming. 

Aziraphale made himself some cocoa, feeling frustrated at the whole ordeal. He wanted to send Crowley a very specific electronic textual message, and figuring out how to do so was going to take the better part of the day. 

But, the angel was determined. So, he went back, and continued learning how to use a phone. 

…

It was late at night when Crowley awoke to a buzz. Someone was texting him. He ignored it at first, but the texting continued. Whoever it was, they were persistent. He groaned, and rolled over, grabbing his phone from his nightstand, and unlocked it. 

He had 14 messages from an unknown number. 

“Probably they think I’m someone else,” he mumbled groggily, but decided to have a look anyways. 

And that’s when he saw the picture the mysterious sender had texted to Crowley. 

The photo was blurry, dark and off-center, but Crowley could unmistakably recognize the image of a dick. A hard dick. And it wasn’t just any hard dick—-it was Aziraphale’s. 

Crowley shot up, clenching his chest in bewilderment. “What the fuck, Angel?!” he yelled at his phone, not tearing his eyes away from the screen. 

“Bloody hell, is Aziraphale sending me dick pics? Wha—“

He scrolled to the other messages. 

“Hello Crow” read the first one. 

“Hello Crowley, my goodNess this is difficult. It’s me, Aziraph”

“Hello Crowley. It’s me Aziraphale. I have pUrchased myself a mobile telEphoN”

The messages continued in this way, repeating what the previous had said only to be cutoff, and Crowley rolled his eyes skipping to the last final one. It was lengthy--must've taken ages for the angel to type out.

“Hello Crowley. It’s me Aziraphale. I have purchased myself a mobile telephone, and wanted to try and send you a textual message. It is rather difficult, I daresay, so I do hope this arrives to you in good order. I confess, I sent the photo to the wrong number at first and received quite the angry response, but I am certain I have the correct number now. Anyhow, my dear, I was reading up on human courtship, and learned about this form of communication they call “sexting” which features “dick pics” (my goodness such crude words, but it is the proper terminology, I double checked). Apparently these forms of communication are intended to indicate intentions of a specific nature, and express the hope of seeing the person for whom one feels both deep affection and intense sexual desire. That person for me, Crowley, is you. To paraphrase Sappho, “I would much prefer to see the lovely way you walk and the radiant glance of your face than the war-chariots of the Lydians or their footsoldiers in arms.” But I know you were displeased with me when we last parted ways, and if you prefer to take your time, I will wait for you, my dear. You know where I’ll be, in my bookshop, sipping cocoa. 

All my love,

Aziraphale.”

Crowley’s mouth was agape with shock. He reread the message over and over again, feeling flutters of excitement in his stomach and chest. 

“Right,” he said when his wits returned to him, and he dressed himself with a snap. He looked in the mirror, making sure his hair was tidy, and he sauntered with purpose out to his Bentley. 

“I’ll be right there,” he texted back, before speeding away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale meet up, and eventually make up (but not before Aziraphale demonstrates how much of a clueless idiot he really can be...especially after reading a bunch of romance, erotica, and women's and BDSM magazines from the 1990's).
> 
> There's no smut-smut yet (just frank discussions), but I promise, I PROMISE, next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought this chapter would be smuttier than it turned out, but I really thought a lot about what Aziraphale might do if he spent several days reading erotica, romance novels, and women's magazines about sex that were probably from the 90's, and this is what my brain came up with.
> 
> I fear I may lose some of you after this--I hope not!--but I promise it'll be super smutty in the next chapter (and a little kinky, but let's be real, these morosexuals have no real clue what their doing, so they are probably going to be doing pretty normal things that they think are way more scandalous than they actually are).

The mobile buzzed and Aziraphale placed his mug of cocoa onto the desk so that he could examine the phone. 

“I’ll be right there,” a message flashed across the screen, before the screen went black again. 

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. His plan had worked! And it had worked more quickly than the angel had thought it would. But, he was already prepared, so there was not much to do but wait for Crowley to arrive. 

He stood up, straightening out his bowtie and waistcoat before running his hands over his thighs, checking his front pocket. He uncorked a bottle of Crowley’s favorite wine, and poured himself a small glass, just enough to soften the nerves. 

He then looked around the space, making sure everything was tip-top. He had done his best to tidy up, making sure that neither party would trip over misplaced books. He had also performed a little miracle, and had an assortment of vinyls from The Velvet Underground. Crowley had been right—Aziraphale didn’t really like their music very much—but he knew Crowley enjoyed it, and so he was happy to play them for the demon's pleasure. 

Once the music was going, he walked out to the front of the store, and grabbed a book in which he placed a piece of paper, with notes to a very specific passage. 

He cleared his throat, and paced, waiting. 

…

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit Aziraphale sent me a dick pic and a fucking love letter fuck fuck fuck,” Crowley rambled to himself as he sped down the London streets. His heart was racing and his mind was a veritable tempest of excitement, confusion, yearning, and lust. 

“This must be a joke, right?” Crowley said aloud, trying to calm himself down. The whole situation seemed too good to be true and too out of the ordinary. 

Aziraphale texting with a mobile was shocking enough—but a pornographic photograph?! That was absolutely beyond comprehension. 

Crowley would completely believe that this was some trick played out by heaven or hell, except that the sender had sorely misunderstood every nuance of modern-day communication in such a profound way that it really could only be the work of one very adorably clever yet somehow incredibly stupid angel. 

“Welcome to the 21st century, Aziraphale,” Crowley said with a little shake of the head. 

Although he was leaping on the inside, on the outside his face was serious—determined, focused, and not showing any visible sign of excitement. This was in part because Crowley was very good at concealing his emotions, but it was also in part because Crowley was still feeling guarded. Sure, the text messages were enough to lure the demon out of his inner sanctum and to wherever Aziraphale had asked him to go, but he wasn’t going to waltz in with chocolates and roses. The hurt was still too fresh—he had opened himself up to Aziraphale, and felt utterly wretched when he thought the angel was rejecting him.

He’d go, listen, and leave. No sex…well, maybe a peak at Aziraphale’s trousers to see if that erection was still visible…but no more than that. Nothing physical could happen tonight…they needed more time…Crowley needed more time, or so he told himself.

His tires squealed to a halt across from the bookshop. He sat for a moment, listening as the speakers blasted Under Pressure. He waited until the echoes of Bowie’s voice resounding the word “Love” faded away, and he turned off the car. 

“Can’t we give ourselves one more chance,” he sang softly, as he stepped out of the car and swung the door shut, humming the rest of the tune as he sauntered to the door.

…

Aziraphale heard the squeal of tires, and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. Still, his heart skipped a beat, realizing that Crowley was already there. It seemed that the demon arrived at the bookshop in record timing. 

"This sexting really does work wonders," he muttered to himself.

The angel walked to the door and unlocked it, watching the familiar figure of Crowley sway towards him. The demon had a dour look on his face, which was Crowley's modus operandi, but Aziraphale was hoping to see him smiling at least a little bit. But no matter.

“Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale cried as he opened the door. The demon approached the doorway, but stopped before entering, his hands in his pockets, and his brow furrowed. 

“A dick pic Aziraphale? Really?” His tone was critical. 

“Well it did seem to be the appropriate—“

“Appropriate?” Crowley interrupted with a wince. The angel could be really embarrassing, and it annoyed the demon greatly. “Oh, Angel.”

Aziraphale let out a little huff, and looked around quickly, ascertaining no one else was on the street to hear their banter. “My dear, please, do come in, won’t you?” He stepped aside with a little bow. 

Crowley grunted, throwing his head back in frustration and he inhaled sharply. “Fine. But I can’t stay for long.”

Aziraphale was disappointed to hear that, but he didn’t let it dampen his spirits. Having Crowley back was joy enough. 

Crowley stood just inside the bookshop, having only ventured in a couple of feet, his hands still in his pockets, and his mouth frowning.

“Would you like some wine my dear? I opened up a bottle of you favorite vintage.”

“Er—“ wine did sound nice, but Crowley felt like if he had wine, he may not be able to pull himself away. “—no. Not right now.”

Aziraphale’s face looked crestfallen at the rejection, and it tugged at the demon's heartstrings. 

“Oh—fine, Aziraphale—but one glass. One. And then I’m gone.”

Aziraphale smiled widely at this. “Oh wonderful my dear, of course. Please follow me,” and he shuffled to the back room. 

Crowley grumbled and reluctantly trailed behind. As they got to the back room, he recognized a familiar—albeit surprising—tune. 

“Hang on…is this The Velvet Underground?” Crowley asked incredulously. 

“Yes it is Crowley. I knew you liked them, so I thought I might try them out, you know?”

Crowley couldn’t help but laughing. “And how do you find them?”

“Well they are certainly—different.”

“Mmm, yeah. Schubert pales in comparison,” Crowley teased.

“Er…” Aziraphale didn’t agree, but this hardly seemed like the time to disagree. “Whatever you say, my dear.”

Crowley stifled a small chuckle. 

“Now, Crowley, I have something I wish to say to you, but here, why don’t you sit down and have some wine first.”

Crowley’s interest was piqued, but he still felt guarded. “I’ll sit angel, but why don’t you tell me whatever it is you have to say before I have wine.”

“Yes, that is perhaps better,” The angel considered. “Very well, do have a seat.”

Crowley obeyed, falling back into the couch with one arm dangling over the armrest. His legs were draped apart in his usual relaxed pose, and he was tilting his head to look up at the angel. His glasses remained on, but Aziraphale could tell the demon was looking at him. 

The angel exhaled raggedly, anxiety and excitement overpowering him. But he was determined, he had set his mind to it. He smiled at Crowley, his eyes twinkling. 

Crowley raised his eyebrow. He was certain that whatever Aziraphale was going to say, it was going to be really embarrassing, and he hoped that he got it over quickly. 

‘He’ll probably recite some porn to me, or reveal some ridiculous lingerie,’ the demon thought, as his eyes flashed down to Azirphale’s trousers. There was neither sign of an erection—nor lace. The demon sighed wistfully. 

Aziraphale opened the book he had been carrying and unfolded a piece of paper that was stuck within the pages. 

“I have a little speech prepared, my dear. I’ve…I’ve borrowed some of the words, but I do hope that it will help me convey what it is that I wish to tell you.”

Crowley nodded, but said nothing. Aziraphale cleared his throat, and began quoting the words of Jane Austen:

“Crowley, I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach,” he looked up at this. The demon was attentive but unmoved. Clearly, Crowley was not familiar with quotation. Azirapahle looked back down to the paper. “You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself…” Aziraphale paused, his voice shaky, and he cleared his throat a little before continuing.

“I offer myself to you again. Dare not say that an angel forgets sooner than a demon, that his love has an earlier death.” Aziraphale stopped at this and looked up. Crowley was leaning forward now, his mouth open a little. 

Azirapahle went on, “I have loved none so much as I love you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Earth. For you alone, I think and plan.”

The angel then stopped and fumbled with something in his pocket, pulling out a box, before crouching down onto one knee. He opened the box, revealing a ring inside, and then continued.

“Too good, too excellent a creature you are, Crowley. Will you do me the honor in,” Aziraphale paused and looked into Crowley’s eyes. The demon’s mouth was completely ajar at this point, and he didn’t appear to be breathing at all. Aziraphale swallowed and continued as he looked in the demon’s face, “in…marrying me, my love?” 

With that, the angel dropped the paper, and grabbed the box with both hands, his mouth broadening into a wide, hopeful smile while his eyes twinkling with excitement. 

There was a long pause, and Crowley was utterly speechless. His mind had grown blank, and he was having trouble processing what was happening. He stared, unblinking, at the kneeling golden figure before him, the angelic face shining with sincerity, and he glanced at the ring, which twinkled with what may have been diamonds. 

‘Fuck,’ was his first coherent thought. 

“M—my dear?” Aziraphale stuttered after a minute, still smiling, but shaking a little bit. 

“I think I’ll take that wine after all,” the demon finally said, removing his glasses and tossing them on a table, and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, certainly,” Aziraphale replied a little surprised, setting down the ring, grabbing the glass of wine and handing it to Crowley, and then joining him on the couch. 

The demon took the wine, and gulped it down. Aziraphale watched with wide-eyed anticipation. 

“Was this…was this not what you wanted?” Aziraphale asked sheepishly. 

“My Satan Aziraphale,” Crowley sputtered. “You give me a hand job, push me away, then after days of complete silence you send me a dick pick, and now you’re proposing marriage! Honestly being with you is like riding a bloody rollercoaster.”

Aziraphale’s face dropped, feeling both sorry for Crowley and guilty for how he had behaved. He hadn’t really thought about his actions in those terms, but he realized that from the demon’s point of view, it must have all been very surprising. 

“I’m sorry Crowley,” the angel said with a low voice. “I—I thought it’s what you would want.”

Crowley laughed. “Well—it isn’t that I don’t want it—“

“Oh?” Aziraphale interrupted with renewed interest.

“Maybe..someday..it..just hang on,” he said to temper his companions excitement, “there’s…a proper order for these things…I think. We should probably…there’s no rush, you know? And it’s, I mean it’s a very human thing. Weddings. Marriage.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale sighed. 

“Honestly, Aziraphale, what on earth were you thinking?”

Aziraphale tilted his head.

“Well, I wanted to show you that I…that I love you, my dear. And I really wanted to show you in terms both physical and emotional. So I did a bit of research…”

“Research….on what exactly?”

“Oh well, sex, mostly. Erotic literature—very pornographic stuff, I’ll have you know, but not exactly…well the humans really get off on shame and power, instead of love, you know.”

“Yep, I do know,” Crowley nodded in response. 

“So I asked Madame Tracy for some guidance…”

“Madame Tracy. And she…told you to propose?” The thought of this surprised Crowley a great deal. 

“Well no. She told me we should be honest with each other. Communicate. But then she gave me a whole stack of magazines, and between those and well the classic tales of love humans have published, well, I suppose I got it into my head that it would be most romantic if I…proposed…and then we…you know…” Aziraphale’s eyes trailed down to his own lap. “Well, at any rate, I suppose I got a bit carried away.” He looked up at the demon with his mouth turned upward into an apologetic smile. 

Crowley nodded, processing the whole scenario, understanding Aziraphale a little better. 

“So, you’ve been reading pornography for the past two days straight?”

“Well—not just pornography. But quite a bit of erotic literature, yes.” 

Crowley nodded, his eyebrow’s raised. “Anything….interesting?”

“Well, truth be told, human desires and…kinks…are intriguing. But I just wish they were less based in guilt and shame and false modesty, and more about…

“Acceptance?” Crowley offered.

“Well, yes. And love. And finding something…good. But sadly…it’s a lot about exerting power.”

Crowley nodded, thinking about the multiple sex acts he’d witnessed in his time on earth. “It would be nicer for them if they stopped treating one another like property, and stopped being so embarrassed. Kinks are one thing, but actually trying to control a person against their will..”

“Is distasteful,” Aziraphale agreed. “Though…I will say, they did have some rather interesting suggestions for how to give pleasure to corporeal forms.”

“Did they?” Croaked Crowley, doing a poor job of masking his interest. 

“For instance, did you know,” Aziraphale said licking his lips excitedly, “that some people are tops and others are bottoms! Which means that one person, well, sticks his or her…phallus…let’s say…into the other person’s…cavities…who then experiences joy at receiving it? And with that there are all sorts of different variations…switches…power bottoms…it all is very interesting, an incredibly layered dynamic.”

“I…did know something about that, yes,” squeaked Crowley, his mind officially blown at the direction their conversation had turned.

“Oh did you my dear? Oh, well, do you happen to know if you are a top or a bottom?” Aziraphale’s eyes looked eagerly at Crowley, who opened and shut his mouth, measuring his response. 

“Well—I don’t know from experience, but…I suspect…I mean I would mind…trying…the bottom. But really, I’d be willing to do either..if you…”

“Oh!” gasped Aziraphale with a smile. “I really wasn’t sure which I would prefer. I tired to feel myself from behind, and it was too difficult to get it right, so perhaps that means I am a top? But then again, maybe it just means I needed a partner….”

“Mmm” Crowley chirped at a surprisingly high decibel, and decided to take another hearty swig of wine. 

This night was not going at all the way Crowley had planned when he drove over. But it was certainly not an unwelcome deviation. 

“And some people,” Aziraphale continued, looking around as though someone might be listening, and he leaned in to Crowley with wide eyes. “Some people like being whipped. With rods. And other such objects.” Aziraphale nodded, as though he had revealed some massive, secret truth. 

“Uhh…yep,” Crowley peeped, feeling as though he might, in fact, discorporate on the spot. He might as well, he thought. He wasn’t going to get over this conversation probably for the rest of time. 

“Well, anyways my dear. It has been a very educational couple of days, I daresay,” Aziraphale said with a surprisingly innocent tone. 

‘Bloody hell, it’s like he’s been listening to academic lectures on ducks or something,’ Crowley thought as he swallowed more wine. 

“But if you would be interested in doing any of that, my dear, well, you just say the word,” Aziraphale said, patting Crowley gently on the knee. 

Crowley’s eyebrow raised at this, and he was feeling a little dizzy from both the discussion and the drink (though he wasn’t inebriated). ‘Fuck it,’ he thought to himself. He downed the rest of the wine, tossed the empty glass to the floor, turned to the angel, grabbed him on either side of the face, and pulled him roughly in for a wet, sloppy kiss. He shoved his tongue deep inside Aziraphale’s mouth before eventually biting the angel’s lower lip with a little extra vigor and then pulling away.

Aziraphale blinked rapidly as the demon pulled himself away. “Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale rasped, “Are you interested in exploring something…now?”

“Oh, Angel,” Crowley moaned, feeling himself grow harder by the second, “absolutely.”

“Well then,” Aziraphale responded placed a soft peck on the demon’s cheek. “We should probably come up with a safe word.”

“A…safe word?” Crowley echoed back ‘What the heaven does Aziraphale think we’re going to be doing?’ he thought to himself, suddenly wishing he had more wine.

“Yes, apparently it’s wise for two lovers to select a word that they can utter at any point they feel uncomfortable or that they have to stop, and the other person stops.”

“Right, uh, okay, so what word did you have in mind?”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale pondered aloud. “What about….crepes?”

Crowley nodded. “Crepes. Yep. Alright.”

Aziraphale then leaned in and kissed Crowley, their lips and tongues mingling for a hot minute, until the angel pulled away suddenly. “My dear, I also should perhaps warn you of something…”

“What?” Crowley asked with a little annoyance, missing the sudden loss of lips pressing hotly against his own.

“Well, I really wanted to please you tonight. And I read so many articles and such that were all about pleasing your man, or what have you…”

“Uh-huh.”

“And well…I might have squeezed myself into some leather lingerie. I’m sorry, I can miracle it away, I just…some of the magazines Madame Tracy shared with me, well, they made it seem like this would be a good idea.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped, and he immediately turned his eyes downward. It didn’t look like Aziraphale had anything out of the ordinary under his wool trousers and waistcoat…but then again…

“Oh…no…don’t go to all the trouble of…miracling it away,” Crowley stuttered, trying to conceal his overwhelming interest. 

“Are you sure Crowley? Because I can, I don’t want to make you disinterested.”

“Nooo, I mean, I think…” Crowley really was at a loss for words, so he decided he might as well be openly honest. 

“I would like to see you. In that. In…whatever it is…you thought would be…fun…for me…if you want…” It wasn’t exactly the suavest response Crowley might have come up with, but his mind was clouded with thoughts of Aziraphale in black leather. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped with a happy smile. “My dear, of course. I was rather proud of this. Here, let me show you,” and with that the angel stood up in front of Crowley and slowly began to unbutton his waistcoat. 

‘Oh fuck,’ was all Crowley could think, as he watched the angel strip, gently pulling off every garment with slow care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it--all your comments have been so encouraging, and I've really had a fun time writing this so far. I think I have at least one more chapter in me for now, but if people do still like it and want more, there are a few ways I can continue the story, either as a series or in this particular story.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale in leather lingerie? 
> 
> Things are about to heat up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that one chapter of smut I am able to stretch out to two. So this does get uber smutty, but the next chapter will be the...big avocado.

Crowley soon discovered that it wasn’t black leather that the angel had chosen to wear underneath his clothes. 

It was pink. 

A soft pink. A pale hue that was almost white, but with a bashful hint of color, and looked wonderfully delicious against the angel’s ivory skin. It was a simple piece, really, in comparison to what Crowley himself had experimented with at various points of his life. It was a garter belt, with a gold bow that laced up the front like a corset. It rested tightly around Azirapahle’s hips, and held up a pair of nude, thigh-high stockings that had a pink seam and little pink bows along the back. He wasn’t wearing a thong or any underwear at all, so the angel’s cock and ass were on full display, though at the moment, Aziraphale was only partially hard. 

The angel was standing in front of Crowley, turning this way and that, modeling his lingerie with wide eyes, eager for approval.

“Well my dear. I know it isn’t much, but what do you think?”

“I’m astonished that this is the first time you’ve ever worn lingerie. You seem like an old pro.” This was true. Aziraphale looked very natural in the tantalizing getup. 

“Oh really?” Aziraphale beamed, his eyes sparkling with delight. 

“Really, angel. You look…amazing.”

“I am glad you think so.”

“Come here,” Crowley ordered, patting himself on the lap, and Aziraphale obeyed. He demurely situated himself atop Crowley’s thighs, resting his uncovered bottom against the demon, his own thighs squeezing together so as to give himself a little balance. Crowley’s erection pressed against his tight own clothes, and he moaned a little when he felt the weight of Aziraphale press against him. 

Once Aziraphale was settled, Crowley looked down to inspect the leather lingerie more closely. His hands lightly fingered the laced-up bow in the front, and he slid his hand down one of the straps that traveled down Aziraphale’s thigh. He gingerly teased the top of the stockings, and the angel gasped at the touch. 

“I can’t believe you did all this for me,” Crowley muttered with a soft tone, looking up into Aziraphale’s face.

“Oh, well, I do very much enjoy making you happy, Crowley,” Aziraphale purred, placing a hand gently on the demon’s cheek. 

“Well, if that's all this is, you really didn’t have to go to all the trouble,” Crowley said. “But I am very, very glad that you did.”

Aziraphale beamed at this, his eyelashes fluttering coyly and his cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. 

“Are you sure you really enjoy it?” Aziraphale asked.

“I think, Angel, you can feel that I do,” Crowley murmured back, letting his hips roll up slightly in order to grind his erection into Aziraphale, who let out a soft moan. 

“Oh, Satan, you are making me so hard,” Crowley continued, as his attention turned back down to one of the garter belt’s clasps that was holding the nylon stocking up on Aziraphal’s thick thigh. The angel whimpered again hearing Crowley speak about his own erection, and Aziraphale himself was now fully aroused. 

With nimble fingers Crowley undid the clasp, and let out a soft hiss as he slid his hand over the newly exposed flesh. He desperately wanted to taste the skin, but he was in the wrong position. 

“Will you sit here, beside me on the couch?” Crowley asked. 

“Of course, my dear,” Aziraphale chirped, and he wiggled himself off of Crowley’s lap, eliciting a moan from his partner who really enjoyed the grinding feeling against his throbbing prick. 

Aziraphale now sat on the couch with his knees pressed together, and his hands folded in his lap, just beneath his erect cock. Crowley softly chuckled at how primly Aziraphale held himself while also wearing scandalous lingerie and sporting a massive erection. The visual juxtaposition was both amusing and enticing. 

Crowley slid down to the ground in a serpentine movement, and gently parted Aziraphale’s legs so that he could sidle in-between his thighs. He went to the spot that had recently been exposed, the nylon slipping down the thigh already and the clasp dangling over the skin. Crowley kissed it and moaned, feeling his own cock twitch with excitement. 

“You make me so hard,” Crowley hissed between his teeth, his lips never losing contact with Aziraphale’s skin. He then let his tongue slip out and glide over the ivory flesh. His own body was writhing, and it soon found purchase against Aziraphale’s leg, and his hips swayed into the angel’s shin. Aziraphale gasped at feeling Crowley’s hardness rub against him, and he buried his fingers through into the demon’s thick red hair, combing slowly. 

“Mmm,” Crowley groaned feeling the fingers drag over his scalp. His hands went to the other clasp around the back of Aziraphale’s thigh, which he undid with swift precision. He then slowly slid the stocking down the thigh and off his leg entirely, revealing the soft, ivory skin beneath. 

“Oh…Angel,” he murmured, softly peppering the thigh with kisses. “I can’t believe how turned on you make me. Your thigh—your perfect thigh, oh how I could worship this thigh for the rest of time.”

The word worship gave the angel pause. “My dear that does sound a tad sacrilegious,” Aziraphale said, his hands still combing through Crowley’s hair. 

Crowley looked up, getting eye contact with the angel. “I don’t care,” he hissed sharply. “It’s the truth. I could worship you for eternity.”

“Oh, well..” Aziraphale said, turning his eyes away and unsure of what to say. On the one hand, everything felt wonderful, and Crowley’s arousal and admiration were making him incredibly turned on. But on the other hand, the thought of being worshipped seemed wrong, somehow. Should he use the safe word? He thought about it, but soon Crowley’s lips and tongue were back on the soft inner part of his thigh, working their way up, and it made him forget his concern. 

“Ohh,” muttered Aziraphale, his eyes rolling back into his head, and his hands clenching Crowley’s hair tightly. He pulled it, slightly, and Crowley let out a gasp. 

Aziraphale’s eyes opened, and he looked down. “I’m sorry my dear, was that too much.”

“No, Angel. Do it again.”

Aziraphale tugged Crowley’s hair, and the demon let out a breathy yelp as his cock twitched at the pleasure. 

“Harder,” Crowley commanded, and the angel obeyed. 

“Oh, yessss,” Crowley hissed, “That feels…fuck.”

“Shall I do it again?”

“Yes.”

Aziraphale did, and Crowley moaned loudly, his mouth agape and eyes squeezed tight in ecstasy. The demon’s hand absentmindedly went to his groin, and he rubbed his erection through his jeans, desperately trying to alleviate the ache before pleasure had swelled to an unbearable point. 

The angel noticed what Crowley was doing, and smiled. “My dear, may I…see…how much you enjoy that?”

Crowley blinked his eyes open, and he mentally made his way back to his surroundings out of a fog of lust and desire. 

“Yeah,” he panted before slowly standing up. He began to raise his fingers to snap, but Aziraphale tutted in disapproval.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to…”

“Well, maybe. But I also think I would like to see you undress yourself. If you don’t mind. It’s only fair, my dear boy. You got to watch me.”

“Point taken” Crowley replied, and ripped off his own jacket and waistcoat in a fluid though swift motion. 

“My you really are not one for taking your time, are you?” Aziraphale noted.

“Not my style, Angel,” Crowley responded, as he removed his shirt. Aziraphale gasped at the exposed torso, noting the angular edges and hard muscles. The sight made his own erection ache with desire. 

As soon as Crowley’s hands went to his fly, Aziraphale interrupted him. 

“Please my dear. Allow me.”

Crowley said nothing in response, but approached the angel, whose eyes were level with the demon’s hips. Licking his lips with excitement, Aziraphale undid the fly, slowly, and pulled the jeans down slightly, but not all the way. Crowley still had on black silk underwear, which he like likewise pulled down, just enough to expose the demon’s throbbing erection. 

“”Oh my, you are excited aren’t you?” Aziraphale rasped in desire, before gently stroking Crowley’s shaft with a delicate finger. Crowley groaned.

“Shall I—“ He started to say, and licked his lips with intention as he stared up into Crowley’s face. The demon lustily moaned at the suggestion, and nodded his head. Aziraphale then held the erection at the base, and slid the head fully into his mouth, letting his tongue dance around the underside, before slowly dragging his way down and then back up. 

“Oh Shhhhit Aziraphale,” Crowley cried, throwing his head back. The hand job had been one thing, and he had often imagined getting his dick sucked by the cherubic lips that now slid across his hardness, but this was more intense than he had imagined. The heat of Aziraphale’s wet mouth made him feel like he might burn up himself, and the tongue that massaged its way up and down his cock was drawing him into a frenzy. 

Aziraphale bobbed his head a few more times, slowly letting the saliva wet the shaft and making it easier for his hand to pump the base. Crowley groaned and yelped, and clenched Aziraphale’s white-gold curls, doing his best not to pull tightly, but feeling himself loosing control. His hips swayed and thrust, and eventually Aziraphale tasted precum. 

“Fuck, fuck Aziraphale, I think—AH—oh I think, I think you should stop,” Crowley eventually stammered, feeling his pleasuring build to a familiar plateau that was going to be impossible to come back from. 

“Are you sure my dear?” Aziraphale asked after he slipped Crowley’s cock out of his mouth. “I do want you to feel pleasure.”

“Oh…I feel pleasure…” Crowley rasped. “But I also want to last a bit longer tonight.”

“I see,” Aziraphale replied with a nod. “Well then. What would you like to do next?”

Crowley’s mind flashed with an array of lewd images, all of which made his dick tingle with anticipation. 

“Maybe…maybe we should just hold one another…talk a bit…” Crowley suggested, feeling like he maybe needed to cool off for a moment. 

“Well, if that’s what would make you happy,” Aziraphale replied. 

“It is,” Crowley said. He slid his jeans back up his hips, once again covering his erection, and sat back down on the couch, pulling Aziraphale into his chest and relaxing against the backrest. The angel wiggled into Crowley’s chest, and sighed contentedly, letting one arm stretch out over the demon’s torso. 

Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head, letting a hand travel down the angel’s shoulder and side, coming to rest on the leather garter belt. 

“This is very impressive Aziraphale,” Crowley said, letting his hands drag over the belt. “How long have you been wearing it?”

“Well, for several hours now. I put it on before I sent you the text message.”

Crowley jutted his lower lip out in a slight pout. “That’s quite a while, and it does seem tight. It mustn’t be terribly comfortable.”

“Well, I didn’t mind it at first. But you are right, it is pinching a bit.”

“Why don’t you take it off, then. Or, perhaps, you can let me, if you want.”

“Yes, Crowley, that does sound nice. If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he said, and he shifted Aziraphale so that the angel was leaning comfortably against the couch’s backrest. He slid a hand over to the bow, and undid the knot and unlaced corseted part of the garter belt first and letting it fall open. He then unsnapped the two straps from the other the other stocking, and carefully slid the belt out from under Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale sighed in relief at feeling the leather slip from his hips. “Ahh, my dear, that does feel a bit more comfortable,” he confessed. 

“Poor angel,” Crowley purred. “First time wearing leather lingerie. It does take a bit of getting used to.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale replied with interest. “Have you worn it?”

“I’ve dabbled,” Crowley said, intentionally underselling the hoards of lingerie he owned at various points of his existence. 

“Well, maybe someday you could show me.”

“If…you want…someday I could.” 

Aziraphale smiled, and Crowley kissed him tenderly, and Aziraphale let out a soft moan from the back of his throat.

“May I take this off as well?” Crowley asked, slipping his fingers under the remaining stocking. 

“Well, I suppose you may,” Aziraphale rasped with a sly twinkle in his eye. Crowley smiled softly and turned his attention to the nylon, sliding it down a little more quickly than he slid off the first, but again peppering the skin with kisses. 

“How’s that?” the demon asked once he slid the nylon stocking off completely. Aziraphale blushed.

“Well, I daresay it is a bit lonely, being the only completely naked one here,” the angel said, looking down at Crowley’s jeans. 

“Oh, right,” the demon said, and before Aziraphale could protest, he snapped and was likewise completely naked. 

Aziraphale clicked his tongue with disapproval. “My dear I was rather hoping that I might be able to do that.”

“Nope, said Crowley tauntingly, sitting back down on the couch, grabbing the angel, and puling him to his chest once again. “You had your chance earlier, remember?”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale pouted, and it made Crowley smile. 

“Maybe next time, alright?”

Aziraphale looked back up at Crowley, his mouth in a petulant little purse. “Oh, very well,” he said with a little disappointment. 

Crowley chuckled. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale, but you’ve made me so incredibly hard that I really couldn’t wait any longer. I fear that if you had undressed me yourself, with your head so very near my cock and your delicate hands gently rubbing against my thighs, I would have erupted all over your pretty face.”

Aziraphale gasped a little at hearing this, and it made his own cock pulsed with desire. Crowley grinned at hearing this reaction, and let his hand wander up Aziraphale’s thigh, resting it in the cleft between leg and hip. He then drew his mouth up to Aziraphale’s ear, kissing the lobe, before lavishing the angel with gentle whispers. 

“You know you make me ache with desire,” murmured, noting that Aziraphale gasped at hearing this. The demon remembered that when they had phone sex, the angel mentioned lustily that he enjoyed hearing how hard he made Crowley, so the demon decided to see if he could tease Aziraphale into a frenzy by describing his own desire. Judging by this initial reaction, it did the trick. 

He let his fingers stroke the angel’s thigh and hip, not getting any closer to Aziraphale’s shaft, but dancing over the soft skin with painfully slow drags. 

“Do you know when the first time you made me hard was?” Crowley asked and he kissed Aziraphale’s neck just below the ear. 

“N-no,” whimpered Aziraphale. 

“Ohhh,” Crowley purred, letting his hot breath spread against Aziraphale’s skin. “It was in Eden.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked in surprise. That was a very long time ago, and it seemed shocking to him that Crowley could possibly have felt such pangs of ecstasy for 6,000 years. 

“Mmm,” Crowley murmured as his fingers drew little circles on Aziraphale’s inner thigh. “I saw the humans having sex, after they ate the apple, and I thought, ‘well, that looks interesting.’ And it occupied my mind for a bit until I saw you, wandering over the wall with that flaming sword. I thought I had never seen a more beautiful sight, and I imagined doing to you what I saw Eve doing to Adam.”

“Oh..oh my,” Aziraphale replied, feeling excited flutters build in his abdomen, and his erection throbbed with a desire to be touched.

“That’s when I first touched myself, watching you, up there on the wall.” Aziraphale moaned, and Crowley licked his lips before continuing. 

“I felt myself grow in the palm of my hand, feeling how hard I got as I looked at you, imagining you thrusting against me…into me,” he let his fingers dance closer to Aziraphale’s shaft, but he still didn’t touch. The angel was whimpering incoherently now, and his hips began to swerve. Crowley’s heart beat with excitement. 

“‘Why don’t I just stroke it,’ I thought to myself, so I did. And then, once I felt the electric pleasure stroking it afforded me, I couldn’t stop. It felt so good, rubbing it while I looked at you, imagining you writhing on top of me. And underneath me. Letting your wings spread out wide.”

“Oh, oh Crowley that’s—“ Aziraphale whimpered, his brow furrowed with an almost pained expression and his mouth open, breath heaving in and out. His hips were gyrating, thrusting ever so slightly in the direction of Crowley’s hand, which continued to tease the skin. He then dragged his fingers up and down the inner thigh, and then up around Aziraphale’s hips. Every time his hand slid further away from Aziraphale’s cock, the angel would let out a desperate whine, which made Crowley snarl with pleasure. 

He didn’t want the angel to come…not yet anyways…but he was really enjoying the tease. He decided he wanted to wait--well, try to wait--until Aziraphale begged for Crowley to touch him. He wondered who would break first—if Aziraphale would ask for release, or if Crowley would lose patience and grab ahold of him. 

He kissed Aziraphale’s shoulder, sucking gently until the skin became red, before continuing his story.

“So I pumped myself. Harder, and harder, feeling a boiling pleasure work its way up into my dick. I wondered if you had a cock, and what it would be like if we stroked one another, what it would be like to see you touch yourself. Satan my imagination went wild.” Aziraphale groaned, and Crowley continued his teasing. 

“I finally came, with the image of you standing on the wall seared into my mind, and feeling wave after wave of euphoria spring forth from my dick. Oh Aziraphale, it was the most delicious thing I had felt, perhaps ever, and I never wanted it to stop. You made me..you still make me…so incredibly hard, my dick throbs with wanting you.” His fingers began to paw at Aziraphale’s thighs, squeezing the flesh. 

“Oh, oh Crowley, please,” Aziraphale whimpered, his hips gyrating uncontrollably. 

“Please…what…my Angel,” Crowley asked, his voice low and gravely. 'This is it,' the demon thought to himself.

“Oh God, please…will you…will you…”

“Yes?” Crowley asked, his whole body feeling flutters of anticipation. He was ready, so ready, to start stroking Aziraphale’s cock, but he wanted to hear him say it first. 

“Will you…” the angel moaned breathily. “Will you let me…fuck you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed this! I definitely have to write at least one more chapter now, don't I?


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Crowley had lost count of the number of times his mind went completely blank out of shock that evening. There had been the dick pic, the proposal, the discussion of tops and bottoms, and the lingerie…but what had just been said triggered a minor explosion, and Crowley found himself speechless and paralyzed. Aziraphale, writhing naked next to him, panting uncontrollably in the heat of lust, had just begged to fuck Crowley..."

Crowley had lost count of the number of times his mind went completely blank out of shock that evening. There had been the dick pic, the proposal, the discussion of tops and bottoms, the lingerie…but what had just been said triggered a minor explosion, and Crowley found himself utterly speechless and paralyzed. Aziraphale, writhing naked next to him, panting uncontrollably in the heat of lust, had just begged to fuck Crowley.

So Crowley said nothing at first, his mind processing what had just happened with the words “will you let me fuck you” ringing in his ears over and over again. Crowley had imagined this scenario thousands of times—tens of thousands, probably, but the revelation that is might *actually* happen *right now* completely immobilized him. His jaw dropped, and his hand stopped teasing Aziraphale’s thigh. There was a sharp twinge in his chest, and he felt as though the wind was knocked out of him. ‘I’m discorporated,’ he thought to himself. ‘This is what it’s like to be discorporated. Or worse.’

“C—Crowley?” Aziraphale rasped, his hips slowing down their swerving movements. “Are..is that…are you alright?”

Crowley slowly exhaled, his eyes staring off into the distance, but saying nothing. 

“Crowley? My dear?”

Crowley blinked a few times, and finally looked into Aziraphale’s face. 

“Crowley I…oh I’m sorry, is this a ‘crepes’ moment? Did you forget our safe word?”

“No…no…crepes,” Crowley eventually stammered, “just…wow.”

Aziraphale sat up, and squared his shoulders to Crowley. He was beginning to worry that something was desperately wrong. In the moment, he had felt as though he was barely in control when he asked if he might penetrate the demon, and perhaps, upon retrospect, it was the wrong thing to ask. His heart fluttered with anxiety, and he clasped Crowley’s hands. 

“My dear fellow, my love, please, do tell me what you are thinking.”

“I..am..thinking…” Crowley slowly croaked, “that…I need another glass of wine.”

“Certainly, my dear, though, I mean, I'd rather you not get drunk.”

“I won’t be drunk, Angel,” this was true, as the earlier wine had already run its course. “It’s…medicinal.”

“Oh, well then, of course,” Aziraphale said and he hopped up, and fetched Crowley a glass. 

Crowley accepted it and swallowed a mouthful, doing his best to collect his thoughts. 

“My dear…really, if this is too much for you right now, we can stop and go back to cuddling. I don’t mind, really. I just want to make you happy,” Aziraphale said trying to maintain a reassuring tone, although he was nervous and his voice was shaky. 

“Oh, I’m happy,” Crowley squeaked, and he looked at Aziraphale. “I’m really, really happy, Angel.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied somewhat relieved, still feeling a little confused, but allowing the demon time to explain himself. 

Crowley took another gulp of wine. “I’m sorry, Angel. I’ve just wanted this for so long, I think…I think I may in fact discorporate.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow in concern. 

“Not…literally, Aziraphale, but I mean, I just…oh bloody hell, I have wanted YOU, dreamt of having you in every conceivable manner, for so many thousands of years, and I never, ever thought it would happen. The fact that you want that too, now, is…overwhelming.”

“Oh, my dear, well I am sorry it took me so long to catch up to you. But really, we can do this at your pace…however, whenever, you want to try it.” 

Crowley’s eyes narrowed, and he swallowed. “Oh I want to try it. I really, REALLY, want to try it. The sooner the better.”

“Well, Crowley, if you are sure.”

“I’m sure,” the demon’s voice was decisive, having finally overcome his intense wave of shock. He was ready, oh so ready, for Aziraphale to fuck him. 

“Well, how should we do this, then?” Aziraphale asked directly, and Crowley looked about the bookshop. There was the sofa, sure, but the demon thought it might be a little difficult to stretch out and really relax, depending on the position they tried. There was the floor—but then again no. While Aziraphale had moved aside most of the books, there still was little room to really spread out. He thought, briefly about Aziraphale hoisting him up against a wall, but there was no inch of wall that wasn’t covered by a bookshelf. 

There was, of course, Crowley’s flat. The bed was spacious and luxurious, but it lacked that homey comfort to which Aziraphale was accustomed. 

Aziraphale bit his lip, looking at Crowley, waiting for a suggestion, which is when a very, very clever idea popped into the demon’s head. 

“You know,” he said with a wry smile. “thanks to a last minute demonic intervention, I do believe a suite at the Ritz just became free.”

…

“Do slow down, please!” Aziraphale cried, his eyes wide with panic. Crowley rolled his eyes, but did decelerate—a little bit.

The demon was certainly in a hurry to get to his destination, but he knew that it would be pointless if the angel sitting next to him was either going to be too irritated or terrified to continue with their plan. 

The stereo system was turned down low, but Crowley could very clearly hear that speakers were playing Crazy Little Thing Called Love, which made the demon smile and shake his head. 

“Well my dear,” Aziraphale began talking, in order to distract himself from how fast the car was moving, “do you think we ought to pick something up along the way? Champagne perhaps?”

“Nah,” Crowley replied. “It’s the Ritz. They have champagne.”

“Yes. You’re right,” Aziraphale replied, grabbing ahold of the handle above his head. Crowley looked at Aziraphale briefly, and then moved a hand swiftly onto the angel’s knee. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale yelped. “My dear, do mind the road.” 

“I am minding the road, Aziraphale,” Crowley said defensively, and decided to let his hand slowly creep up Aziraphale’s thigh. "I'm also minding your thigh."

“Ahhaha, Crowley,” Aziraphale sputtered nervously, and he began to breath quickly both out of discomfort at the speed of the car, and the feeling of Crowley’s deft fingers wandering their way towards his groin. His heart raced with the double exhilaration. 

“Tell me, Aziraphale,” the demon asked in a low voice. “What do you want to do when we get to the Ritz.”

“Well, I thought that was obvious.”

“Humor me, Angel.”

“Well, I suppose I’d first want to check in.”

“Yeah, after that, Aziraphale.”

“Perhaps…order some champagne. Oh and cake?”

“Yeah, okay, cake, champagne. Then what?”

Aziraphale swallowed, feeling a stirring in his trousers as the demon’s hand gently slid closer and closer to his groin. “Well, I suppose I’d wish to retire. To the bed.”

“Mmm,” Crowley moaned. And then what?”

“W-w-well, my d-dear,” Aziraphale stammered. “I—I suppose I’d want to know what you’d want to do. W-what, ah, what would you like?”

“Hmm,” Crowley mused, squeezing Aziraphale’s thigh. The angel gasped. 

“Get these trousers off for a start. And your bowtie… and waistcoat. Ah, just get you completely naked.”

“And I suppose you’d join me in disrobing?” Aziraphale asked hopefully.

“Of course, that goes without question.”

“Ahh-ha,” Aziraphale wheezed, feeling Crowley’s hand get dangerously close to the stiffness that was now stirring in his trousers. 

“And then, I suppose I’d…” but he stopped saying what he supposed he'd do, for he turned a corner, and they pulled up to the valet of the Ritz. “Well, we will just have to find out, won’t we?” He teased with a rakish smile before exiting the Bentley. 

Aziraphale exhaled, slightly worried that his semi-erect phallus would be visible to the outside world. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping the throbbing would cease very quickly, and he made his way out of the car as well.

…

They checked in to the Royal Suite, which Crowley admitted, may have been a little over the top. It was a two-story mansion, with a dining room, dressing rooms, antique furniture, oil paintings—he hoped it wasn’t too much.

Aziraphale explored the space, wide-eyed and smiling. The floral curtains, which Crowley thought were a little dated, absolutely charmed the angel, who gingerly fingered the thick fabric. They had ordered champagne and desserts, which were waiting for them when they arrived, and Crowley poured himself a glass while Aziraphale dipped his pinky into a raspberry mousse, and licked the finger clean. 

“Champagne?” Crowley asked, already pouring the angel a flute. 

“Please,” Aziraphale responded eagerly, and Crowley offered it to him. 

“To the world,” Crowley said, remembering the last time they were at the Ritz. 

Aziraphale smiled at the reference. “To the world, my dear.” 

They clinked glasses, and sipped the champagne. It was expensive, and went down easily. 

“Well, my dear,” Aziraphale said looking at Crowley, who met his gaze. They stared at one another before both began to laugh. Aziraphale started it, an uncontrollable giggle bubbling forth while his cheeks turned crimson. Crowley tried to stifle his laughter at first, but failed, and soon the two of them were practically in hysterics. 

“It’s a bit awkward, isn’t it?” Aziraphale finally was able to say after the guffaws had subsided, wiping tears from his eyes.

Crowley nodded, removing his glasses so that he too could wipe some tears. “It is, Angel. A bit. Here,” he said, grabbing the bottle of champagne. “Why don’t we just take this upstairs to the bedroom and just talk. Nothing more, unless we feel like it.”

“Oh, that sounds nice, Crowley,” Aziraphale chirped, and the two of them found their way to the bedroom, and sat comfortably on the plush red bench situated at the foot of the bed. 

“Refill?” Crowley asked. 

“Er—no, my dear” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley set the bottle down on the floor. He leaned back, positioning one hand on the bed behind him, and sipped the champagne thoughtfully. 

Aziraphale turned to him, glancing over the demon’s figure admiringly, before he spoke. 

“Was it really in Eden that you first, er, made an effort, sexually.”

Crowley kept his attention forward, but nodded. “It was.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, looking down at his feet. “That’s an awfully long time, my dear.”

“It is,” Crowley agreed matter-of-factly. “It’s…all of time.”

Aziraphale licked his lips. “Did you ever think of telling me…sooner?”

“I did. Loads of times.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Well…”Crowley lingered. “There didn’t seem to be a point. As far as I figured, the best case scenario was that you call me a demon and dismiss me. But in the worst case scenario, I shock you so greatly that you leave Earth forever and I never see you again. All in all, it didn’t really seem worth the risk.”

“Ohh,” Aziraphale said softly. “You must think me prudish.”

“Aren’t you?”

Aziraphale inhaled sharply, ready to be defensive, but he stopped himself, realizing that Crowley wasn’t entirely wrong. 

“Well, I suppose I am, a little. In some ways.”

At this Crowley’s mouth turned up into a slight grin, and he looked at Aziraphale, but said nothing. 

“But my dear, I’m not feeling prudish now.”

“No? And how are you feeling now?”

Aziraphale didn’t respond with words at first, instead opting to lean and kiss Crowley, gently dragging his tongue over the demon’s lips before pulling away. 

“Contented, my dear. Utterly contented. I love you so completely that I can’t imagine being any happier than I am right now.” Aziraphale smiled widely at this, and Crowley’s heart felt as though it was about to burst (though he remained silent and still, letting no emotion show on his face). 

“In fact, if you don’t mind me confessing something, I do believe that I have loved you romantically for a much longer time than even I realized.”

“Oh?” replied Crowley with interest. 

“Well, I can first remember realizing that I loved you in this way back in the church—you remember, with the books, and the bomb?”

“I remember.”

“Yes, well, when you saved those books, I realized how ardently I loved you. But I think…” Aziraphale paused, looking up in thought. Crowley sipped his champagne and then set the flute down on the ground, waiting for Aziraphale to continue. 

“…I think perhaps I started to love you back in Eden as well. I mean, not so much as I love you now, but I think that’s when it started. You made me laugh, I remember, and you comforted me, and ever since then, I’ve felt at ease with you in a way that I haven’t felt at ease with anyone else. Particularly not the other angels.”

Crowley’s mind thought back to his time in heaven, when Gabriel and the other angels were viciously ready to destroy Aziraphale with hell fire. They, thought Crowley, were vengeful dicks, whereas Aziraphale was soft, sweet, and full of grace. Strong emotions flooded the demon's corporeal form, a combination of anger at the other angels, fearful that he may one day not be able to protect Aziraphale, and joy at hearing that the angel felt at-ease with him since the beginning. 

“Oh…Aziraphale,” he moaned, and he rushed to press his lips against the angel’s, his hands swiftly moving to cup his beloved’s face, while he shifted his body so that they were now pressing into one another. 

Aziraphale welcomed the kiss, bringing his arms up to Crowley’s shoulders and pulling him in closer. Their mouths opened slightly, and Crowley slid his tongue out to meet Aziraphale’s. Both let out soft, throaty moans, and their kisses became more frantic, as hands began to grasp at fabric and wander eagerly over bodies. 

Crowley’s body was raging with enamored lust, and he ripped himself from Aziraphale’s lips with a soft cry from his lover--but it only so that he might taste the celestial neck, sucking at the soft skin with a wanton fervor, desiring to be as physically close to the angel as he could be. His hands were behind Aziraphale’s back and he clenched the angel’s coat with tight fists, while his body writhed in snakelike movements, hips rolling and back arching. 

Aziraphale moaned when Crowley’s lips met his neck, feeling a fire-like heat of the demon’s mouth as the sucked on the flesh. He craved to feel Crowley’s mouth all over his skin, sucking pleasure out to the surface. He rolled his head back, giving the demon greater access, and Crowley responded by sliding his mouth up to where he could feel Aziraphale’s pulse, and massaging the spot with his tongue. 

“Oh, oh Crowley,” Aziraphale’ mewled. “That’s so good, my dear, oh…”

Crowley hissed and pulled himself away, looking at Aziraphale’s neck and noting that he left a couple of red spots. He smiled devilishly, before turning his attention to Aziraphale’s bowtie. 

“Damnit, Angel, why did you insist on putting this bloody thing back on?” He grumbled, fiddling with the knot. 

“Well, why did you insist on putting back on your…tie or whatever you call this?” he asked pulling at the silver accessory dangling over Crowley’s neck. 

“Point taken,” Crowley said as he finally loosened the bowtie, and slid it off of Aziraphale’s collar. He undid the top buttons of the shirt next, exposing the angel’s collar bone, which he then plied with a torrent of enthusiastic kisses while working at unbuttoning the waistcoat. 

Aziraphale, meanwhile, wrapped his arms around Crowley, sliding his hands up and down the demon’s back, completely enraptured by the attentions. Once Crowley had unbuttoned every last button on the angel’s body, he slid off the garments, one-by-one, until finally Aziraphale was completely naked from the waist up. Crowley pulled himself away, panting heavily. 

“Get on the bed, Angel,” he commanded with a low voice, nodding with his head towards the pillows and headrest. Aziraphale kicked off his shoes and crawled up onto the bed on all fours, a little clumsily, but still tantalizing. Crowley bit his lower lip as he watched Aziraphale’s backside. 

Aziraphale positioned himself at the head of the bed, looking down towards the demon. Crowley stared at him, his chest heaving and teeth bared. Aziraphale was also breathing heavily, his eyes wide, and his tongue flitting prettily across his teeth and lips. 

Without breaking eye contact, Crowley stood at the foot of the bed, and roughly removed his clothes, ripping each garment off with a movement that was somehow both graceful and violent. Each piece was thrown to the ground with purpose, until he, like Aziraphale, was naked from the waist up. He kicked off his shoes, and brought his hands down to his jeans, and slowly began to undo the fly. 

“Should I..” Aziraphale began, bringing his own hands to his own fly. Crowley licked his lips and nodded hungrily, and together the both of them finished disrobing, doing their best to mirror the other’s pace, all while staring intently into one another’s eyes. 

Once both were entirely naked, they each let their gaze wander, noting that both were stiff with ardor. Crowley, upon staring at Aziraphale’s erection, grabbed his own shaft and slowly began stroking. 

“Oh, Angel. You make me so hard,” Crowley panted as he rubbed his palm over his length, and let his tongue flicker out over his lips. 

Aziraphale, it seemed, had more self control and refrained from touching himself, though he did watch the scene unfolding before him with lusty interest. 

The angel swallowed, before asking with a breathy voice, “Will you not join me up here, my love?”

Crowley let out a soft hiss, placed his palms on the foot of the bed and his knees on the bench, and slithered his way slowly up to Aziraphale. His movements were graceful and serpentine, though to Aziraphale it reminded him of something almost feline in the way Crowley’s muscles rippled underneath his skin as he crept closer and closer.

The angel remained completely still, though his mouth was open and gasping for air as Crowley reached his body, crawling over his feet, thighs and erection—not breaking eye contact, and not touching skin against skin until finally he pressed his mouth against Aziraphale’s, sliding his tongue deep into the angel’s mouth and drawing out a deep, guttural moan. Crowley slowly relaxed, letting his weight gently fall upon Aziraphale so that their chests and stomachs touched. The feeling of skin-against-skin was intoxicating.

The demon was still on his knees, but he gently lowered himself until both angel and demon could feel their hard desire pressing against the body of the other. 

Both broke away from their kisses at feeling the other’s erection, and let out euphoric cries. 

“Oh, Crowley, you feel wonderful,” Aziraphale murmured, and he smiled at Crowley. 

“So do you, Angel,” Crowley replied with a breathy gasp, returning the smile, before kissing Aziraphale once again. 

They kissed for a little wile, the demons swerving his hips with graceful movement. Eventually, the angel’s hands slid their way up to Crowley’s head, and began gently combing through the hair, dragging his fingers against the scalp until he fisted the hair and gave a slight pull. 

“Ahh,” Crowley groaned with delight, pulling his head back from Aziraphale’s lips, his eyes shut tight in ecstasy.

“You are so beautiful when you made that face, my dear. Like a painting.” Aziraphale murmured adoringly, and he decided to do it again, tugging at the red locks with a gentle but firm grasp. Crowley once again let out a whimper. “That’s it my dear, oh my goodness, how delicious you look with your eyes pressed so tightly and your mouth open so widely. And what pretty noises you’re making!” He pulled again, eliciting another groan. “Oh yes, like that one. It’s very arousing my dear, you are quite the temptation.”

Crowley was completely lost in a haze of lust, having entirely lost track of reality after the angel gently pulled his hair for a third time. It was as though Aziraphale transported him to another plane of existence, where time ceased to exist. Slowly, however, the angel’s soft hands worked their way back down Crowley’s back, rubbing and lightly scratching at the flesh, and bringing Crowley back to reality. 

“Fuck Aziraphale,” Crowley murmured. “That was…”

“Ineffable?” Aziraphale offered, and Crowley glared at him. 

“Don’t you dare,” Crowley rasped, and Aziraphale closed his lips obediently, but there was still a mischievous twinkle in his eye. 

“Well that was quite something Crowley. We may have to experiment more with that later.”

Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, admiring his pale wide eyes that looked up at him in earnest and the smile that made the angelic face sparkle. 

“I love you, Aziraphale,” the demon whispered softly, staring deeply into the angel’s eyes.

“Oh!” Aziraphale responded, the apples of his cheeks reddening and his smile growing even wider, as his body let out a little happy wiggle. “I love you too, Crowley.”

And with that Crowley moaned, and kissed Aziraphale, and slowly began to gyrate his hips, letting their erections slightly rub against one other. 

Aziraphale gasped. “My dear should we…are you…”

“Yes Aziraphale, we should,” panted Crowley.

“How do we…”

“I need to open up first.”

“Oh, right. Of course.” Aziraphale said. “Should I…should it be me?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, my dear. I suppose this is where the saliva comes in.”

Crowley laughed. “Well, that or we could just miracle some lube."

“So you’ve done this before?”

“Just by myself, Angel, like I told you.” 

“Well, then, maybe you should show me.”

Crowley nodded, and brought up two of Aziraphale’s fingers to his mouth, and sucked. The feeling made Aziraphale think about Crowley’s lips and tongue on his shaft, and for a moment, was forgot himself, groaning into the pleasure of Crowley’s hot, wet mouth. 

Once the fingers were properly wetted, Crowley slid them out of his mouth. 

“That should probably be enough for now,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale nodded. 

“How should I…”

“Here,” Crowley replied, and slid off of Aziraphale onto his back, spreading his knees apart. “It may be easier…like this I think. For now.”

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale agreed, and he rolled over to sidle himself in between Crowley’s thighs. He sat up on his haunches, and he held one of Crowley’s legs with one hand, while the hand with wet fingers he slowly caressed around the backside, searching for the demon’s cleft. 

Crowley moaned, and spread his legs farther apart, giving the angel as much access as he could. 

“There we are,” Aziraphale said upon finding the hole, and slowly working one finger inside. Crowley arched his back slightly and groaned with pleasure. 

“Does this feel alright, Crowley,” Aziraphale asked. 

“Yesss,” hissed the demon. 

“Should I massage around a bit.”

“Please, Angel.”

So Aziraphale slid his finger in and out, trying to work his way deeper and deeper, moving his finger around, and watching with eager eyes as Crowley’s writhed and moaned. 

“Add another finger Aziraphale,” Crowley commanded, and Aziraphale obeyed, gently pushing his middle finger in next to his index. Crowley let out a guttural yelp, feeling himself spread open, and the fingers gently massaging him, working their way deeper and deeper. 

“Scissor them, a little, I think,” Crowley eventually ordered. He hadn’t actually experienced this before, but he thought it might work to help open him up. 

“You mean, like so?” Aziraphale asked, gently spreading his fingers apart, making Crowley wider. 

“Mmm, yeah, oh Fuck, yeah,” Crowley responded, his hips bucking slightly. 

“You are absolutely gorgeous my dear, Aziraphale praised as he wached his lover writhe against the machinations of his fingers. “I feel absolutely honored that I get to see you in this way.”

All Crowley could do in response was moan, letting the pleasure and praise equally wash over him like a wave. Aziraphale bent his fingers, and hit a spot that made the demon buck his hips and yelp.

"Oh, is that alright Crowley?" He asked a little surprised by the reaction.

"That was fucking incredible, Aziraphale. Do it again."

So he did, watching as Crowley yelped and bucked. Aziraphale’s was throbbing with desire at the scene, and he continued to work his fingers inside of Crowley, wondering when he should try to slide his erection. 

But soon, Crowley (as though reading his thoughts) said, “Fuck me Aziraphale. Properly.”

“Well, if you’re ready,” Aziraphale said, sliding his fingers out, and positioning his shaft against Crowley. 

“Well, I’m almost ready,” Crowley said, and with a snap lube coated Aziraphale’s dick and his own ass. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale said surprised, and he pumped his shaft a few times, admiring the slickness. “My, Crowley, this is an unexpected pleasure.”

Crowley rolled his eyes a little. “Yeah, it’s for, you know, helping you come inside of me.” Crowley muttered, trying to get the angel to refocus his attention on the task at hand. 

“Right, of course,” Aziraphale replied, and turned his attention back to entering Crowley. 

He aligned himself in the proper position, slowly placing the tip of his head right at the opening. “Well, here I go,” Aziraphale said. “I love you my dear.”

“I love you t-OH, oh Angel,” Crowley responded, as he felt Aziraphale slide inside. 

“Oh God, Crowley this is..”

“Do not say ineffable,” Crowley snarled. 

“I wasn’t going to! I was going to say sublime.” 

“Oh, that’s alright then,” Crowley panted, as Aziraphale drew himself back, and plunged forward again, this time a little deeper. 

“Mmm,” Crowley moaned, as his hips began to gyrate. “That feels so good Aziraphale, ffffuck.”

“Oh..oh good,” Aziraphale rasped, and he thrust again and again, looking down at first to watch their point of contact, but after he got the hang of it, he looked up, and saw Crowley’s face tense with ecstacy, his back arched and his chest heaving. The sight made him smile, and he continued to roll his hips, finding himself able to burrow his way into the demon more deeply. He was feeling overwhelmed by the happiness he felt at giving Crowley pleasure, and at the incredible euphoria his own corporeal form was experiencing. 

Crowley was completely undone, feeling wave after wave of pleasure reverberate all over his body with every thrust. He moaned and writhed in ecstasy. 

Aziraphale kept his pace slow and steady, but a part of him wanted to pound harder and faster—but he worried it would hurt Crowley. He did shift weight after a few minutes of thrusting, grabbing both of Crowley's thighs with tightly clenched hands. It seemed as though his new position hit the spot that gave Crowley such ecstasy earlier.

"Nnnf," Crowley groaned as he felt electric euphoria pulse out from his prostate. The feeling was driving him into a new level of bliss.

“Harder, Aziraphale,” he ordered after a while, once the initial shock of intense pleasure abated. 

“You mean, like this?” The angel asked, as he thrust his hips at a slightly faster pace, plunging deeper and deeper inside of Crowley, feeling almost as though the demon’s body was sucking him in deeper, and he let out a soft yelp. 

“Oh just like that oh yesss,” Crowley hissed, feeling intense pleasure with every thrust of Aziraphale's shaft that grazed against his prostate, and he absentmindedly brought a hand up to his own cock and began stroking it. 

“Oh please my dear, allow me,” Aziraphale said upon witnessing the demon's self-pleasure, and he brought a hand up to Crowley’s erection, pumping him in rhythm with his thrusts. It took a bit of concentration to do both at the same time, but in seeing and feeling how much Crowley enjoyed it, it was definitely worth the extra effort.

“Oh fuck Angel, I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Crowley cried, his hips gyrating with greater force as he felt an intense heat building inside his abdomen, ass, and cock. 

“Do come for me, my love. I do want to feel and watch you when you orgasm.” 

“Nnfff,” Was all Crowley could muster in response, as the heat growing inside him burst forth like breaking dam, spreading rivers of pleasure over all of his limbs and finally making its way to his cock. He came hard as thick ropes of spunk erupted from his dick, his ass clenching against Aziraphale’s erection. Wave after wave of pleasure rushed over him, and he writhed and shivered, looking up into Azirphale’s eyes with the final bucking of his hips.

The angel completely lost all control at the scene, and was soon afterward thrusting into his own climax deep inside of Crowley. He filled the demon with his own hot spendings as his hips bucked over and over again, and he cried Crowley’s name. He felt his cum filling the inside of Crowley in hot streams that coated his own cock, making his final thrusts even slicker. After a final roll of the hips he stopped, gasping for breath as he shivered. 

“Are…are you alright Crowley,” he finally asked, looking into the demon’s face, and his heart dropped when he saw that Crowley was crying. 

“My dear, oh no, I’m sorry, did you say crepes? I didn’t hear you if I did!” the angel was rambling as he fell forward, wiping away a tear from Crowley’s cheek. 

“I’m fine Aziraphale. No crepes. I’m more than fine,” Crowley muttered softly. “I’m just, really, really happy Aziraphale.”

“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale said, with a relieved chuckle, nuzzling his head against Crowley’s chest.

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, holding him tightly to his chest. 

They both slept soundly that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay everyone, wow, thanks for reading my first not super, duper angsty piece! I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> If you're interested, I do have some ideas for how to continue this story, and lot of other fun activities for these two morosexuals to try out, if you are interested in seeing their saga continue. But this would also be an alright spot to stop the story as well. 
> 
> Do let me know in the comments what you think! I am going to write a super smutty one-shot that I have an idea for first, but then I can return to this if there’s interest.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley wake up after an incredible night....and decide to switch positions.

Aziraphale awoke sometime in mid-morning, feeling the weight of an arm dangling over him, and a body pressed firmly against his back. ‘Crowley,’ he though with a smile, and wiggled a little. He felt entirely contented. He also noticed that the demon behind him was pressing a semi-erect phallus into him. He felt a small flutter of excitement, but believing his partner to be asleep, he simply pressed his hips closer to Crowley, feeling the erection burrow gently against him, before closing his eyes, and falling back asleep.

…

Crowley felt a delightful twinge of pleasure in his cock. It was delicious and addictive, and he wanted to feel it again. He very soon realized that he was gently rutting against something warm and soft. His eyes remained closed, but he continued his gyrations, his mind floating in the twilight that exists between sleep and awake. 

“Oh!” a voice softly gasped, and the demon slitted open his eyes, still not fully conscious, and blurily seeing a mess of blonde curls in front of his face. Crowley groaned at the sight, still somewhat asleep. He nuzzled his face into the curls, and squeezed the angel’s body in closer to him. Aziraphale’s body was warm and soft, and he smelled like heaven and sugar cookies. Crowley’s hips still swerved, his erection gently rubbing against the angel. 

Aziraphale’s hand squeezed Crowley’s gently as he arched his back against the demon. The angel realized that he too was sporting an erection by this time, and he started to feel an aching desire for release. He let go of Crowley’s hand, and began to stroke himself.

Crowley’s mind was creeping into consciousness, and he began to realize that he was, in fact, dry humping Aziraphale. He groaned softly at the realization, planting a kiss on the angel’s shoulder. 

“Are you awake, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. 

“No,” Crowley whispered with a groggy voice, kissing the angel on the shoulder again. “Must be dreaming. There’s absolutely no way that I could be in bed with a naked Aziraphale.” After saying this, Crowley noticed the rhythmic movements of the angel’s arm, and the demon slid his his hand down and over Aziraphale’s torso to verify his suspicions. “A naked, horny Aziraphale, who seems to have already begun touching himself.”

Aziraphale stopped stroking, and turned his head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of Crowley behind him. 

“I’m sorry my dear. Was that wrong?”

“Mmm, very wrong angel,” Crowley said, as he dragged his teeth across the shoulder in front of him. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said apologetically, and he let go of his cock completely.

Crowley noticed that Aziraphale had stopped touching himself, and brought his mouth up to the angel’s ear. “I didn’t say stop,” he whispered with a gravely voice, thick with temptation.

“Oh!” Aziraphale replied breathily, and he immediately began to stroke himself again. 

“That’sss it, Angel,” Crowley hissed softly in Aziraphale’s ear. “So good, rubbing yourself like that. Ohhh makes me sssooo hard.”

Aziraphale moaned at his, and Crowley rutted himself again against the angel’s backside, letting his stiffness speak for itself against the angel’s soft flesh.

Aziraphale then had a thought, though he wasn’t sure if the demon would be interested. He slowed his hand and licked his lips, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to say. 

“Crowley,” he started, feeling the demon’s lips and teeth planted against his shoulder.

“Hmmm,” Crowley responded, not moving his mouth from its spot.

“It’s only…well…that is if you'd be interested. I was wondering if you might, er…penetrate me?”

Crowley exhaled, hot breath cascading over Aziraphale’s skin. 

“You want me to fuck you?” The demon rasped, his heart suddenly beating with added excitement.

“Well, I suppose. If you want to put it that way,” Aziraphale replied demurely. 

“Hmm” Crowley laughed, and his hand went to Aziraphale’s backside. He slapped it softly, and grabbed a cheek, squeezing the round muscle. “Sure angel, I’ll fuck you.”

“Oh, thank you, Crowley. I do really enjoy knowing that you yourself are aroused, and perhaps this might heighten the experience of pleasure.”

“Indeed,” Crowley purred, and his hand was already working at the Angel’s cleft. He decided to preemptively miracle plenty of lube all over himself and Aziraphale, wanting this to be as pleasant for the angel as it could be. Aziraphale let out a soft gasp. 

“Fuck angel, you make me so hard,” Crowley purred, as one finger gently slid around Aziraphale’s crevice and gently pushed its way inside. “Oh, you’re so soft. And warm. Nnnf, I can’t wait to put my dick inside of you.”

Aziraphale groaned, and his hand absentmindedly stroked himself with a renewed vigor. 

Crowley decided to use his other arm to prop himself up, so that he might look down at the view of Aziraphale’s face. Aziraphale’s eyes were shut tight, and his jaw was open and relaxed. 

“Would you like that, Angel?” Crowley asked after a few moments of working inside of Aziraphale. “Would you like it if I slid my cock here?” On the word ‘here,’ he slipped another slick finger inside, and continued his gentle massages. Aziraphale groaned, and nodded. Crowley smiled, biting his lower lip. 

He worked his fingers inside of Aziraphale, feeling him relax and loosen. Aziraphale’s grunts and swerving hips were enough indication that the angel was enjoying the machinations of Crowley’s hand. 

Crowley curved his finger slightly, in search of the prostate. “OH!” yelped Aziraphale, as he found it, and the demon grinned, feeling his own erection twinge at his lover’s pornographic yelp.

“Did you like that?” Crowley purred. 

“Mmm..r-rather.”

Crowley ventured in another finger to the sound of surprised but euphoric gasps. Still massaging and sporadically hitting the spot, he opened Aziraphale, until finally it seemed like the angel was ready.

“I’m so hard, Angel,” Crowley moaned, and he ground his cock against Aziraphale’s muscle—not penetratively, but around the outside. “Can you feel how much you make me ache for you?”

“Nnf,” Aziraphale moaned.

“Can you?”

“Oh, y-yes, Crowley,” Aziraphale finally whimpered. 

“What would you like me to do with it?” Crowley asked as he grazed Aziraphale’s prostate with his fingertips. 

“OH!,” Aziraphale yelped as electric pleasure shocked his senses, and his hips bucked. He panted for a second, before finally uttering, “I..I want to feel you. Completely.”

Crowley growled, and slowly pulled his fingers out of Aziraphale, and used that hand to guide his erection to the opening. 

“P—please, Crowley,” Aziraphale begged, and Crowley, with torturous slowness, slid himself inside Aziraphale. 

Both cried out euphorically at the same time, the angel crying for God, the demon crying out “Satan.”

Crowley drew himself back, assuaging the ache that tormented his hot length. Then he reached down, sliding a hand beneath Aziraphale’s thigh so that he might lift the leg, widening his partner and making access a little easier. 

Aziraphale’s mind had been completely and utterly blank after feeling Crowley enter him, overly excited by the double pleasure of both feeling himself filled, and knowing intimately that the demon was truly aroused. When he began to gather his senses, he realized he was still stroking himself, and he decided to pace his pumps to the rhythm of thrusts set by Crowley.

“Fuck Angel,” Crowley panted. He had imagined being inside of Aziraphale on many, many occasions (though usually in his fantasies he was the recipient). He never anticipated it feeling quite this good, however, and his he had to concentrate in order to ensure his pleasure didn’t preemptively bring him over the edge, as he rolled his hips and arched his back. 

“Oh, oh, my dear,” Aziraphale groaned, feeling Crowley’s shaft graze against the spot inside that was causing minor explosions of pleasure. He too felt himself reaching the point of no return.

Crowley’s thrusts became more urgent, burrowing deeper inside of Aziraphale. “Shit, Angel, this is bloody unbelievable,” he yelped. His voice had lost its gravely timbre from earlier, and evoked pure, unadulterated want. He could no longer put effort into what he was saying to Aziraphale, he could only react to the intense ecstasy his body was experiencing. He worked faster and faster, harder and harder.

Aziraphale’s soft groans and cries of “oh God” and “oh Crowley” turned into a series of incoherent, lusty grunts, erupting at every one of Crowley’s thrusts and growing progressively louder. 

“FUCK, Angel, you’re so hot. You’re going to make me come, shit!” Crowley yelled, and he felt his whole body shiver with orgasm, his hips bucking uncontrollably in Aziraphale as hot cum spurted from his cock. 

“Oh, YES Crowley, oh yes, YES,” Aziraphale shouted, feeling the hot wet ecstasy fill him, and his hand pumped his own shaft wildly until he was climaxing as well, sending streams of creamy spendings onto the bed in front of him. 

Both spasmed, somewhat uncontrollably, letting the last drops of euphoria spill out. They stayed in their spooning position for several minutes, panting and speechless. Crowley planted several wet kisses atop Aziraphale’s shoulder and neck, and Aziraphale shivered in response. 

When Crowley felt himself begin to soften, he slowly pulled himself out of Aziraphale. The angel rolled over, finally getting the first good look at his lover’s face of the day. 

“Good morning my dear,” he said with a smile. 

“Good morning, Angel,” Crowley responded.

…

After a lengthy brunch, Aziraphale and Crowley thought they they should probably go back to their respective residences—not that they wanted to be alone, but rather because it seemed like if they kept spending time together, they may never wish to enter the world again, and on some level they knew that that was unwise. 

Crowley’s flat had always felt empty and cold—he liked it that way. But now, as he sat in his throne-like chair, he felt very alone. He turned on the TV, flipping channels and commenting “that’s one of mine,” whenever he’d see a reality show on the screen. He could sleep, perhaps. That always seemed to be fun, but for some reason, he wasn’t actually in the mood. 

His body felt like it was itching—but why? The apocalypse was over. He and Aziraphale were shagging. He had everything he could possibly want. 

He could try performing some minor temptations, he considered, or just making some trouble (nothing that would actually kill anyone, but maybe cause some minor annoyance). But this lacked appeal as well. 

Perhaps he needed a change of scenery. Sure he had just gone to Paris, but he’d been in London for many, many centuries by this point. He pulled up his phone and began looking up travel destinations. 

…

Aziraphale decided to organize his books. Many of them, he noted, were scattered throughout the shop, hastily placed on tables and desks. He could, of course, miracle them back into order, but that was not as fun. He loved to hold the books, looking at each one with care as he delicately caressed the covers and spines. 

Once many of his books were in some semblance of order, he stood back, assessing the expanse of his collection, and he sighed contentedly. He loved his bookshop. He was so happy when it was restored. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, always in his bookshop, and always with Crowley. 

…

“I think I want to leave London,” Crowley said as he sipped on a glass of wine. The demon had decided he was too bored at home, and had texted Aziraphale if he might come over. After a long pause, the angel responded that Crowley was more than welcome. 

“Leave London?” Aziraphale repeated with surprise, notes of anxiety underpinning his tone. He thought, for a moment, Crowley might mean permanently.

“Yeah, you know. Get away for a few days,” Crowley replied.

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed in relief. “Where would you like to go?”

“Not really sure,” said Crowley as he shifted his weight on the couch. “Barcelona, I guess might be good. Or Miami. Las Vegas.”

Aziraphale felt his heart sink a little at hearing the demon’s suggestions. These were all, as far as the angel was concerned, party towns. They were most definitely not his scene, as it were, and he suspected that Crowley was trying to pull away from him. 

“Well all of those places sound…er…exciting, Crowley.”

“Eh, well, they’re alright. Not like Berlin after the Cold War, but you know, they have their appeal.”

“I’m sure they do,” Aziraphale replied, not able to mask his distain. 

Crowley looked up, suddenly hearing the holier-than-thou tone of his companion. He smiled devilishly. 

“So you’re not in the mood to make a little trouble then?” Crowley teased.

“Me?!” Aziraphale replied in surprise. 

“Of course,” Crowley purred. “They’d absolutely love you in West Hollywood.”

Aziraphale blushed. “I don’t know if any of these places are for me, Crowley.”

Crowley tilted his head in defeat. “Ahh, well.”

Aziraphale sipped his wine, his lips pursed in something between annoyance and jealousy. He knew that Crowley was a demon, and a troublemaker, and would probably love to go to fancy nightclubs with loud music and drunken crowds. The thought of Crowley surrounded by sweaty humans, dancing something like the gavotte while sporting disco attire, flashed through his mind and he felt a pang of jealousy.

Crowley took another sip of wine, before finally asking, “where would you like to go, angel?”

“Where would I like to go?” Aziraphale echoed back, looking into Crowley’s eyes. “You wish for us to go off together?”

Crowley shrugged. “If you’d like.”

Aziraphale blushed. “I suppose I would like that. Though, I’m not sure Paris should be on the table.”

“Let’s avoid France altogether,” Crowley suggested. 

“Right.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to think of a place. 

“I’d rather not stray too far from London,” Aziraphale said as he looked around his bookshop.

“So, the moon’s out?”

“Uh, yes my dear,” said Azirapahle. “I’d rather stay…terrestrial. And probably stick to England.”

Crowley grunted. England didn’t sound particularly fun to him. But then again, it might allow for them to go on a road trip in his Bentley, something he had been itching to do since the almost Apocalypse.

“Fine angel. We can stay in England. But we’re taking my car.”

Aziraphale gulped at this prospect. The thought of spending hours with Crowley in the car, speeding down unknown country roads was almost enough for him to reconsider. But he nodded. 

“Well then,” said Crowley as he pulled out his phone. “Let’s pick a spot.” He started perusing his phone for vacation spots. 

Aziraphale watched at first, but then decided to join Crowley and so he moved next to him on the couch and peered over his shoulder. He watched with wide eyes as Crowley scrolled passed pictures of vacation rentals, until finally a small cottage in an idyllic countryside stood out. 

“Ooh, what about that one?” Aziraphale asked, tapping his finger on Crowley’s phone. 

“Well…” said Crowley, inspecting the listing. It was a simple place in the South Downs—not flashy, but very Aziraphale. He sighed, but acquiesced. 

“Sure, Angel. We can go here.”

“Oh good. I’m sure it will be loads of fun.”

“Hmm,” Crowley replied, not entirely convinced. 

“When do you want to leave?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley wanted to leave that very moment, but thought that overeagerness would probably work against him.

“Thursday?” he suggested. That was two days away. 

“Perfect!” Aziraphale exclaimed, and kissed Crowley affectionately. 

“Perfect,” the demon muttered, somewhat ironically, as their lips parted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little slow action-wise, so I hope you weren't too disappointed. I do have a direction I'm headed, but it'll be slow. 
> 
> Very, very slow.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets caught up on reading his book, and doesn't realize that it's already Thursday. Crowley is hurt, and leaves the angel behind. 
> 
> Looks like they're at it again.
> 
> (NO SMUT, sorry).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a human. 
> 
> There's also a scene of non-consensual kissing (nothing more violent than that though).

They were supposed to leave in two days—together. That was the plan, the completely and utterly *effable* plan, or so Crowley mumbled to himself while he sped down the country roads, alone in his Bentley. 

He glanced at the bottles of wine in the seat next to him. He had found them special from a dealer the day before—a rather obnoxious human who had clearly taken a fancy to Crowley, and insisted on explaining every detail of the wines they had in stock (even though the demon already knew what he wanted). Crowley would have snapped his fingers and hypnotized them into a willful stupor to just give him the bloody wine, but Crowley’s vanity at being so obviously admired by the young person made him actually enjoy the special attention (even though he was not attracted to the human).

“Bloody angel,” Crowley spat angrily. He hadn’t truly felt angry with Aziraphale, at least not like this, in their time together. There always was some other entity to be angry at—the angels, the demons, the ineffable plan. 

But now there was no one else to blame, except Aziraphale. And himself, of course—it was always natural to blame himself. But this time, he mostly blamed Aziraphale. 

…

Late on Tuesday, after Crowley had left, Aziraphale made the mistake of opening the book Crowley purchased him, and he became completely absorbed with what he was reading. The angel became so absorbed, in fact, that when Crowley called the bookshop on the day they were supposed to leave for South Downs, Aziraphale had completely lost track of the day (and had even forgotten that they had made plans altogether). 

“Hello, I am afraid we are quite busy,” Aziraphale said on the phone. 

“Uh, hey, Angel,” Crowley replied, taken a little aback by the tone.

“Oh! Crowley. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Right, well, you would if you had checked your mobile, AT ALL, in the last 48 hours.”

Ah. The mobile. Aziraphale had quite forgotten that he owned one. 

“Well, my dear, I’m afraid I really have been quite busy.”

“Busy?” Crowley asked flatly.

“Yes, now—“

“So, I guess you’re too busy to come with me, then?” Crowley interrupted, his tone growing sharper by the minute. 

“I—come with you?” Aziraphale’s mind was blank. Did they make plans to grab a meal? There was something, but Aziraphale’s mind was still too preoccupied with his book to recall.

“Yes, Angel, for hell’s sake, come with me,” Crowley replied.

“I hadn’t…” Aziraphale paused. He was still distracted by the book, and he looked at it longingly.

“So that’s a no then?” Crowley said. 

“Well, not right at the moment, my dear,” Aziraphale said decisively. He was nearly done reading. He’d telephone Crowley as soon as he was. 

“Oh, ‘my dear,’ is it?” Crowley scoffed. “You know what? Just..fine, Aziraphale, that’s just fine. You know what? I’m leaving. I’m going to go off to South Downs by myself, and when I’m there I won’t even think about you!” 

*click*

South Downs. Aziraphale stared at his handset in disbelief, feeling mortified that he had forgotten what day it was. It must have been Thursday already, and he had locked himself inside his bookshop for nearly 48 hours. 

To his defense, the book was both very hard to read, and contained important information that may be relevant to he and Crowley. But that seemed not to matter right now.

Right now the most important thing was getting back in touch with the demon. Aziraphale attempted to call both of Crowley’s numbers, multiple times, but there was no answer on either. 

So Aziraphale paced his shop, chewing his lower lip in anxious contemplation, trying to think of what to do. The angel was panicking, feeling that he had accidentally betrayed Crowley’s trust in his being so distracted.

While making his 7th loop around the shop, he saw his mobile phone resting on a shelf. He picked it up, tried turning on the screen, but it remained black. It had died sometime over the last few days, and Aziraphale never charged it. 

“Oh you…blasted…thing!” Aziraphale yelled at the phone, but nothing happened. He could perhaps miracle it back into working order, but the angel also supposed that he was going to need some miracles over the next few days, and he didn’t really feel like seeing how many he could do in a row before Gabriel and the others decided to try and talk to him about it.

Frustrated with the device, and himself, he searched the shop until he found the instructions for the phone along with the charging cable, and figured out how to bring it back to life.

…

Crowley arrived to South Downs in half the amount of time it would take a person obeying the speed limit. He pulled up to the cottage, and was let inside by a middle-aged woman who owned the place. 

“It was my mum’s” she said thoughtfully, after giving him the initial tour. “She died a while back, though. We may be lookin’ to sell it, if you’re interested,” she said.

“Not likely,” Crowley said bitterly. “You can go now.”

“Right,” the woman replied with wide-eyes, taking her sudden leave. 

The cottage was rather large. It had several bedrooms upstairs, a huge downstairs and large modern kitchen with sleek appliances and marble countertops. It was understated in its decoration, which Crowley appreciated, though the warm color scheme reminded him of Aziraphale and gave the space an overwhelmingly cozy feel. Downstairs was a room adjacent to the dining area, which held a modest office with a few bookshelves, and it overlooked a surprisingly lush garden. 

Aziraphale would probably love this place, Crowley thought, still feeling anger seething inside.

Wine—there was wine it the car, right? Yep, sold to him by that very, very annoying wine seller. He’d better go fetch it.

He walked around outside with the intention of getting the wine from his Bentley, but became distracted, meandering instead down a stone path that led into the garden. The plants in the garden were verdant and beautiful, in spite of the fact that no demon had ever yelled at them. Crowley found a bench to sit on, and he began staring at a bush with beautiful cream flowers with thick petals that had a hint of pink. It was late in the season for flowers to appear, Crowley knew, but even though there was something special about the plant, he felt a pang of anger.

The flowers looked like they were mocking him.

“WHAT?” Crowley yelled at the plant, and it began to shiver. “Do you think because you have those flowers that you are special? You’re NOT!”

A flower fell from the bush, and then another. Crowley grunted, satisfied, stood up and left. The plant continued to shake for some time. 

…

After an hour or so, Aziraphale finally figured out how to charge his phone. He waited until it turned back on, and with nervous hands he unlocked the device. 

It buzzed. 

He had six unread text messages. All of them from Crowley. 

The first was on Wednesday morning, at 9:35 am. 

“Hey, I’m going to make sure everything’s ready for the trip, so I’ll be out today. Let me know if you need anything. XX”

The second was on Wednesday at 4:14 PM

“Done with stuff. You around? Dinner?”

The third was Wednesday at 11:59 PM

“Ok, well, goodnight I guess. Love you. Angel.”

The fourth was Thursday morning at 8:00

“I’m up. Let me know when you’re ready.”

The fifth was Thursday afternoon at 1:03 PM

“U ready yet?”

The sixth was Thursday afternoon at 4:04 PM, approximately one minute before he had received the phone call from Crowley.

“Angel?”

Aziraphale sat down and clutched his heart, letting out an exasperated sigh. He decided to try calling Crowley with his mobile, but as anticipated, there was again no response. He considered sexting, but wasn’t really sure that this would be the appropriate response (and to be honest, he wasn’t sure that he could get himself in the mood to send such a picture). 

Aziraphale knew that he had done wrong—not intentionally, of course. But he had absentmindedly hurt Crowley, and he felt he should make amends for it.

…

Crowley felt his phone buzz, and looked at it to see it was Aziraphale, this time calling from his mobile. He frowned, rolled his eyes, and put the phone on silent. 

“Perhaps I ought to go to Ibiza after all,” the demon mused aloud as he ambled around the garden, inspecting the variety of plants. He let out a sigh, knowing he would not go to Ibiza, or Barcelona, or any of the other party cities. Not without Aziraphale, at any rate. 

He continued to walk throughout the garden, the air crisp and cool with autumn. There were a couple of trees whose leaves were turning brown, a nice leafy hedge that was somewhat overgrown, and various plants scattered haphazardly throughout the space. He noted the presence of creatures, bugs and snails and a couple of birds. The garden was teeming with life. 

There were pangs in his chest, the anger towards Aziraphale was still there, but beginning to subside into something else—something still emotional, but more manageable. He wondered at what caused this, and suspected it may have something to do with the garden outside of the cottage. He considered yelling at a plant, but thought better of it.

Crowley suddenly felt a very urgent need to get back to Aziraphale. He wasn’t sure what he would say, exactly. Normally he was the one to apologize, but he was certain now it was the angel’s turn. Maybe he would? 

Crowley had to see. So, he hopped in his Bentley and sped his way back to London. He thought about calling Aziraphale briefly, but decided that it would be better to hold out until he got to London. 

He did decide to text the Angel, however. 

“Don’t call. OMW.”

…

Aziraphale knew he had to get to Crowley, only he wasn’t exactly sure where he was. He knew Crowley was in South Downs, probably, and likely in the cottage they had picked out together, but he was at a loss when it came to figuring out the address—at least without a minor miracle. 

He asked his phone to show him the list of rentals in South Downs, eventually finding the familiar one. Once he obtained an address, he wrote it down on a notebook, placing his phone back down on the counter and forgetting it almost instantly.

Aziraphale decided he would make two stops before venturing to the bus depot to commandeer a vehicle to take him to the cottage in South Downs. 

The first was the lingerie store where he had acquired the pale pink leather garter. It was open late, and had an array of other objects for sale, toys and implements that humans invented for heightening sexual pleasure. Aziraphale took quite a long time exploring the wares, asking many bold questions and getting somewhat red-faced answers from the clerk.

The second stop was to get flowers. It was a simple gesture, and not easy to do so late in the day, but he did find a place open, and he bought a half dozen red roses. He felt that while the proposal had, indeed, been overkill, roses were romantic, and surely not going too far.

…

Crowley pulled up to the book shop, again having driven the distance between London and South Downs in record timing. He saw that it was closed—no surprise there—but with a snap the door opened.  
“Aziraphale?!” He yelled. 

No reply. 

He called again, and began to search the place, high and low, but there was no sign of the angel. 

“Where the blast could he be?” Crowley yelled, noting Aziraphale’s phone sitting atop a desk. And in his mind Crowley suddenly played back the conversation they had earlier. Aziraphale had said he was busy—and clearly he was (otherwise he’d just be in his shop) and whatever he was busy doing, he wasn’t going to tell the demon. 

Aziraphale was keeping things from him. 

Crowley’s anger was still there, but now accompanied by an acute sadness. Aziraphale had admitted right after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t that he had regretted keeping secrets from Crowley and that it had been a mistake. Crowley believed Aziraphale at the time, believed that the angel wouldn’t keep things from him anymore. He was an angel, after all, and the best angel at that. 

Yet here they were, history repeating itself. 

“I need a drink,” Crowley said flatly, and he left the bookshop and walked down the street to the nearest bar he could find. 

…

“My mobile telephone!” Aziraphale yelped as he made it to the bus depot, holding flowers and a the box under his arm. 

He reprimanded himself a little, but did have to give himself credit for remembering (even if it was late). 

He went back to the bookshop and was shocked and delighted to see Crowley’s car out front.  
“My dear?” He yelled when he went inside, but there was no response. He looked around, but soon ascertained that the bookshop was very devoid of demons. 

“How odd,” he said with a furrowed brow, and went outside, looking left and right to try and see if he could figure out where Crowley went. It was certainly Crowley’s car, Aziraphale would know it anywhere.

“A pub, perhaps?” Aziraphale thought, looking towards the a dark and trendy establishment a block from his place. He knew Crowley often went drinking when he was overwhelmed, so perhaps he’d find him there. He had to be somewhere close. So, clutching the flowers and box, he marched his way swiftly down the street.

…

“Aanntonyyy,” a drunk voice slurred as Crowley entered the bar. 

The demon looked around, and saw the wine seller from the day before. Today, however, she was wearing a completely unprofessional outfit (well, at least for wine-selling standards). It was a very low cut and tight thing, showing of the angles and curves of the figure. Crowley admired it for a moment, thinking that he himself could wear something similar.  
“Oh, it’s you,” Crowley said cooly, and ordered himself a shot of whisky from the bar. The drunk wine seller made their way over to Crowley, and placed a hand sloppily on his arm. 

“This isss him, the fancy *hic* fancy man I waaasss tellin’ you ‘bout,” the wine seller yelled to a motley group of individuals, who seemed equally intoxicated. “Thasss my mates. She is gettin’ married. We’re cel—cel—celebratin,”

“You were talking about me?” Crowley inquired, ignoring the rest of the statement, but mildly curious when it came to what humans were saying about him. Humans sometimes offered themselves in service to Crowley, he recalled. It would be nice, he thought momentarily, to have some more operatives now that Shadwell had quit the business. He ordered and then downed another shot of whiskey.

“Mmmm, I waaass,” the human replied breathily, leaning herself languorously and unsteadily into Crowley’s frame. 

Crowley ignored this, instead ordering from the bartender, “Now a pint of whatever’s on tap. Doesn’t matter what. Surprise me," The human stumbled a little, and her hands went crashing against Crowley’s hips. The demon laughed a little at how the human would probably react if she knew who Crowley really was—she’d be right terrified of her behavior, Crowley suspected, and faint or flee at the sight of his true presence. 

Perhaps he should make the serpent known? The human was very handsy.

Before Crowley could make up his mind, the bartender set down a pint of dark beer, and Crowley took a hearty swig, feeling somewhat dizzy afterwards. The shots were kicking in, he realized, and so he put the pint down on the bar, and tried to steady himself, which was proving to be somewhat difficult with the human leaning on him.

“You know whhhat I wanted yester.. yester…dayyy,” the human slurred.  
“Hmm?” Crowley replied, barely paying attention, focusing his hands on the bar to keep himself steady.

“This,” and suddenly two human hands grabbed Crowley by the head, pulled in ungracefully downward, and suddenly a human mouth that reeked of cheap spirits and stale cigarettes was crushing against his. 

The booth of friends erupted in a clamor of screams, cheers of support for the drunk human who was trying very hard to get a tongue into Crowley’s mouth.

Crowley was absolutely shocked by the sudden and unwelcome kiss, feeling himself stunned into paralysis. This wasn’t the first time a human kissed him without consent—nor, he suspected, would it be the last. 

When the demon finally mustered enough of his wits and self-control to yank himself away without harming the human, he heard a tiny voice behind him meekly say.

“Crowley?”

Crowley whirled around, and was met by two very wide, very sad pale blue eyes. 

“Angel,” he rasped, feeling the sting of being caught in a compromising position. “It’s, it’s not what it—“

“I—here,” Aziraphale whimpered as he shoved the flowers and box at Crowley with a shaking lower lip and tears welling in his eyes. After thrusting the items at the demon, Aziraphale turned and ran away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having a little fight, Crowley and Aziraphale discuss their relationship and come up with a plan. 
> 
> They then start to have makeup sex.

“Wait!” Crowley yelled, pushing past the inebriated, handsy human and running outside. The bartender called out in protest, probably because the demon had neglected to pay his bill, but Crowley’s attention would not be diverted from chasing Aziraphale (even if he was a bit drunk).

Firstly, he had to explain to Aziraphale that what he saw was in no way what it looked like. The human was of no remote interest to Crowley and had initiated the entire thing—in fact, Crowley was only a moment away from turning into a snake when Aziraphale arrived. 

Secondly, he had to let Aziraphale have a piece of his mind. Crowley had needed to get out of London, he needed to go away, it was a yearning that was growing into a tormenting itch. And the angel’s complete disregard for this need, and perhaps even keeping secrets from Crowley, was hurtful. Crowley believed (up until the kissing incident) that he had every right to be completely pissed.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley yelled, his long legs stretching out into a kind of undulating jog. He clutched the box and flowers absentmindedly.

The angel was walking swiftly back to his bookshop, “Leave me be, Crowley,” the angel called back, not slowing his pace (but not hastening either).

By the time Aziraphale reached the stairs, Crowley had caught up to him. 

“Angel, wait,” panted Crowley. “That, that human, that wasn’t what it looked like.”

Aziraphale turned towards Crowley. He wasn't crying, but there was a flash of hurt behind his eyes. “Oh, wasn’t it?” He spat, before letting himself into the bookshop and slamming the door. 

“Angel, come on,” Crowley said as he heard the door lock. “Look, let me in, alright? I’m sorry that happened, I am, I’m really sorry, but Angel, Aziraphale, I'm serious. We need to talk.” The last four words were said with such an earnest tone that the angel, listening from inside, felt a new kind of anxiety. He sighed, and unlocked the door—not opening it, but walking away from the threshold to allow Crowley to come in on his own.

Crowley heard the deadbolt click and he swung open the door, finding Aziraphale standing with his shoulders slumped next to a bookshelf. His heart thudded for a moment, and he decided he’d better sober up (somewhere down the street, a whiskey bottle regained a few ounces of liquid). 

“Aziraphale, I promise, alright? That wasn’t anything, I swear. That human kissed me, I didn’t want it.”

Aziraphale stood up straight, and turned to Crowley. His face, which maybe had been crying a little, was now aloof, his nose turned up in a dismissive manner. 

“I’m sure, Crowley. After all, you are a demon—who wouldn’t be tempted by you.”

Being called a demon stung, even though it was true. Still, Crowley didn’t appreciate the connotations, and he knew that Aziraphale was starting to fall back into his old routine, drawing the line between angel and demon as a defense mechanism. His anger for Aziraphale suddenly returned.

“No, don’t do that, Aziraphale. This wasn’t because I was a demon. This is because some drunk human was inappropriate. So don’t make this about angels and demons—especially when you’re the one keeping secrets from me.”

“Keeping secrets from you?” Aziraphale replied taken aback. 

“Being busy, doing…whatever. Not talking to me. I came back here and you were gone.”

Realization suddenly hit Aziraphale. Crowley thought he was keeping something from him. He wasn’t, though there was something he wished to share that he had yet to tell Crowley about. 

“Now, I do believe there has been a misunderstanding, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a renewed voice. “I may have been absentminded and inconsiderate, but I can assure you that I have not been keeping any secrets from you. Not since the Taddfield, that is.”

Crowley opened his mouth, and shut it again. He believe Aziraphale, though his behavior was still confusing. 

Noting the demon’s silence, Aziraphale continued. “But there is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve been busy with reading the book you bought for me from the auction. It had been published as an anonymous book of riddles from the 17th century, only after some hours of trying to solve them and finding their cadence familiar, I realized that they aren’t riddles at all. It’s another book of prophesy, and if I am correct, it was also written by Agnes Nutter.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped at hearing the name. “Agnes Nutter? You mean THE Agnes Nutter?”

“The very same!” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide with excitement, and the strong emotion he had been feeling towards Crowley was shifted into an eager desire to share his findings. 

“But, the only copy was destroyed…” Crowley replied in confusion.

“It was my dear. This seems to be a sequel! 

Crowley’s mind played through the surprising turn of events. If, indeed, the book he purchased for Aziraphale was another book of prophesy by Agnes Nutter, it would explain (and even excuse) Aziraphale’s forgetful and inconsiderate behavior. 

“Uhh…okay then…” Crowley replied, and he slouched against a bookshelf. Did he want to know what Agnes Nutter had to say? The thought made him shudder. 

“Shall I show you, my dear?” Aziraphale asked excitedly. 

Crowley nodded reluctantly, so the angel brought him over to the desk, produced the book, and pointed out a few early entries that Aziraphale interpreted as referring to events occurring after the Almost-Apocalypse. Crowley squinted at the words, the font and language relics of a past, and his eyes crossed. 

“What do you think my dear?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I think it’s…” Crowley trailed off. He wasn’t actually sure what to think. The discovery, though exciting, seemed to indicate that work was not done, that perhaps the real big one between all of us against all of them was coming afterall. “Ineffable?”

“Oh but it’s not, my dear. It’s entirely effable. We just need to study it and figure it out, don’t you see?”

The itch inside of Crowley suddenly returned. He didn’t want to deal with prophesy right now, he wanted…he wasn’t sure, but he was not ready to deal with whatever that book had in store.

“Look, Azriaphale, we need to talk,” Crowley said. “And not about the book.”

The sharp pang of anxiety struck the angel once again. “Ahh. Yes. Well, alright, my dear,” he said, closing the book and walking over to the sofa. The two sat down, and Crowley removed his sunglasses. 

“This must be serious,” Aziraphale said trying to lighten the mood when he saw that Crowley exposed his eyes. 

“It is, angel,” he said. 

Aziraphale sighed, steeling himself for whatever was to come.

“Look, I love you, Aziraphale,” Crowley said softly, holding the angel’s hands in his own. “But this…whatever this is…is giving me emotional whiplash. We fuck. Then you don’t speak to me for days. Then you drop a bombshell on me. It’s becoming a cycle.”

“I would rather you call it ‘make love,’ my dear,” Aziraphale said after wincing at the word ‘fuck.’

“Right, make love. Whatever, look, it’s a lot.” 

Aziraphale nodded solemnly. 

“Maybe we, I don’t know, should set up some rules? Guidelines?”

“You mean like not fraternizing with humans or other entities?” Aziraphale shot cooly. 

“Alright I…deserved that I suppose…but yeah. Like that. And like, not talking to me for days on end because you’re distracted with reading material.”

Aziraphale looked down guiltily and nodded. 

They sighed, the tension somewhat lesser than it had been, but there was still something not quite right. Both of them felt it, but it was Aziraphale who commented first. 

“I suppose our relationship is moving rather quickly.”

“Quickly?” Crowley scoffed. “If you call shagging after 6,000 years quick…hang on, relationship?”

“Yes relationship.” Crowley smiled at this, as Aziraphale continued. “Moving quickly over the whole time we have known one another is not what I mean, Crowley. I mean we went from being friends—dear friends—to something much, much greater without stopping to reflect on the ramifications of what that will mean for who we are…as individuals beings.”

Crowley nodded. There was truth in that, but he didn’t say anything.

“Take your sudden need to get out of London, for instance,” Aziraphale continued. “You always have been a little on the rash side when it came to making decisions, which is something I greatly admire about you, if I’m being perfectly honest. And while I have been happily stationed in my bookshop for hundreds of years, you have been content to move about. But me, though I do love to travel for food or books or the like, if there isn’t a particular reason to be somewhere, I do find it a bit arduous, and honestly would prefer to remain here.”

Crowley opened his mouth, but closed it. 

Aziraphale went on, “Plus, well in addition to this point, I rather think that you have always enjoyed the darker, secretly luxurious atmospheres of trendy human establishments that attract thrill seekers, and people who live, what’s the phrase, ‘life on the edge?’ Whereas I prefer the Ritz and picnics and my bookshop.”

This characterization of Crowley wasn’t wholly correct, though it wasn’t exactly false either. The demon enjoyed being distracted—and sure, sometimes people were an entertaining distraction in places such as those Aziraphale described, but it wasn’t as though those places were who he was….or were they? 

“Honestly, angel, I don’t mind the Ritz. I mean, as long as I am with you. And I love your bookshop. It reminds me of you.”

Aziraphale raised a hand to stroke Crowley’s cheek. “I know my dear. It’s just, those things—the Ritz, my bookshop—they aren’t you. And I am sorry to have been so selfish as to always seem to make us do what it is I want to do. But I am afraid that I, as ever, am not always able to live life in the fast lane, as you do.”

“It’s not…you’re not…selfish, Angel,” Crowley said.

“I am, a little,” Aziraphale replied sheepishly.

Crowley didn’t say anything at first, but a delicious idea did flash through his mind. “Well, if you want to make up for being so selfish,” he rolled his hips suggestively. 

Aziraphale’s eyebrow raised and he snuck a quick glance down to Crowley’s lap.

“Perhaps in a minute, my dear, I’m afraid we still have more to discuss.”

Crowley made a small grunting noise to convey disappointment, but he stopped his rolling hips. 

“Well? What is it?”

Aziraphale sighed. He had been forming an idea over the course of the conversation, though he didn’t really like it. But he really couldn’t see any other solution. 

“I think that we have been so wrapped up in each other of late, we have somewhat lost connections to who we truly are as individuals, and I’m afraid that if we lose sight of that it’s only going to cause further issues down the line.”

Crowley processed what Aziraphale was saying, and nodded slowly. It was true, he had barely make a lick of trouble (well…annoying inconvenience) since they stopped Heaven and Hell. His plants, which had once been the envy of horticulturalists everywhere, were becoming a little droopy, as Crowley hadn’t make time (or had the desire) to give them a proper yelling. He hadn’t gone to any movie matinees or visited any of the new dance clubs.

Aziraphale, he had to admit, did have a point. 

“So what’s do be done?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale swallowed, preparing himself to make his suggestion, though he was nervous. 

“Perhaps we ought to try and spend a little time apart? It’s not ideal but, well, think about how much our relationship blossomed when I spend one night in France. Imagine what multiple nights might do. And plus, it would give us space to decide if this, whatever this is, is really what we want—and if it’s not, well, it’ll give us time to decide what it is we do..er..want.”

Crowley didn’t like this idea. He wanted to be with Aziraphale, it always felt right. But… the phone sex after spending one night apart was pretty hot, he had to admit, so maybe there was something to what the angel was saying.

“Okay, so what, like a week? A month?”

“I was thinking more like a year.”

“A year?!” Crowley cried. 

“Really, Crowley. We’ve experienced more than 6,000 of them. And we’ve spent centuries apart. Surely you can withstand one trip around the sun.”

“And what if I can’t?” Crowley replied.

“My dear,” Aziraphale cooed, and looked at him with his soft, blue eyes. “I do think you can.”

Crowley’s heart was racing fast. This was not what he wanted—not at all. But the more he looked at Aziraphale, the more his resolve crumbled away. He would do anything for the angel—his angel. Even spend time apart. 

“Six months,” Crowley replied. “That’s all I’m doing. Six months.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Six months, then. I can perhaps finally get my books organized, and you can…go cavorting.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to go cavorting, Aziraphale.”

“But my dear, I do…ah…I do think you should.”

“What?”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not that I relish the thought of you doing so, Crowley. It’s just that, well, I want you to have this opportunity to decide if this, here with me, is really what you want to be doing, you know or if you’d rather be. Oh, I don’t know…fraternizing with whoever you were fraternizing with before the whole apocalypse business.” 

“Angel I only ever fraternized with you.”

Aziraphale let out an uncomfortable chuckle. “In some ways, I’m sure that’s true, my dear. But, well, I know you did like to scheme with humans from time to time, and tempt them into doing… whatever it is you tempted them into doing. Whether or not it’s what you want to do in the future is up in the air, I suppose. But it was a part of who you were, and that part I’m sure doesn’t just die overnight.”

Crowley tried to protest, “look, angel I only ever did those things because I couldn’t be with you.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly. “But it doesn’t mean your habits cease immediately. Please my dear,” Aziraphale brought a hand back to Crowley’s cheek. “I want you to know who you are, and what you need and want, before we continue in this direction.”

This sentiment gave Crowley pause, and stopped the words from leaving his throat. The truth is, he was incredibly caught up in giving Aziraphale what he wanted, figuring out his own desires beyond “make Aziraphale happy” and “cum hard” was somewhat foreign to him. In some ways, he admitted to himself, not knowing or vocalizing what he wanted was what led them to this mess in the first place. 

Then there was that itch he’d felt growing inside of him, the one that begged him to leave London, make some kind of change. It didn’t ask him to leave Aziraphale, but it did make him desire…something…he just couldn’t figure out what. 

Crowley swallowed. “Alright. Six months then. Starting…tomorrow?”

“I suppose it’s as good a time as any.”

“Right. So, can we communicate, then….”

“Well I don’t see why not,” Aziraphale replied. “I don’t see how some letters or even telephone calls every so often couldn’t hurt. Though perhaps we should limit the talks to…once a week? More if there is a real need, of course, an emergency or what have you.”

“Fine,” Crowley acquiesced, planning out all the different emergencies he could fake to have an excuse to call Aziraphale. “What other rules are there?”

“Well, I don’t want to put a limit on your…activities, Crowley. That is rather the point. I think perhaps unless there’s an emergency we had better not pry too much, you know?”

Crowley shrugged. “What about phone sex and sexting?”

“Ahh,” Aziraphale uttered, caught a little off guard. “Well, let’s just…see how it goes, shall we? Maybe start with no, but play it by ear?”

Crowley grunted in feigned agreement. He would definitely be sending dick pics to Aziraphale, he decided. He’d spend the whole 6 months bloody seducing the angel until he was so in need of release he’d come begging for the demon, and never forget about him again.

In fact, the more he thought about it, this little time away could be rather fun—like a game.

“Oh, and another rule, Crowley. You can’t just sleep the six months away.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but agreed. 

“So, my dear, what are you in the mood for now. It is going to be our last night together for six months, so I’m rather up for whatever you suggest.”

Crowley glared at him, his nostrils flaring briefly, before his lips curled into a devilish smile. “Well the first thing I suggest, angel, is that you start by sucking me off.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped as he licked his lips. “Gladly, my dear!”

‘Well, that was easy,’ Crowley thought to himself in surprise, as Aziraphale moved in front of Crowley and knelt down onto his knees, moving his hands slowly up Crowley’s legs. 

“My dear, it doesn’t appear that you are..erm..”

“Yeah, I’m not right now angel, but stay like that for a few minutes, and, Oooh.” 

Aziraphale’s hand was grazing against Crowley’s cock through his jeans. The sensation was delightful.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you..ah..?”

“Be naked?” Crowley suggested. 

“Happily,” Aziraphale replied, and he (remaining on his knees) slowly began to undo his buttons. Crowley rolled his eyes, snapped, and Aziraphale was left with only his underthings. 

“Goodness, that was unexpected.”

“But so worth it, Angel” Crowley mumbled under his breath as his eyes moved over Aziraphale, noting the soft curves. He bit his lip, thinking about pressing against Aziraphale’s body, and he felt himself grow a little stiffer.

“Well, if you do say so,” Aziraphale said before turning his attentions back to Crowley’s growing erection. “Oh, you do feel a little harder, my dear. Shall I…” and Aziraphale began to undo Crowley’s fly. 

Crowley grunted in affirmation, and Aziraphale’s finger gently worked at the fly, spreading the jeans apart before gently fingering around the underwear. It was not long before Crowley was incredibly hard.

“Those hands work miracles, Angel,” Crowley teased. 

Aziraphale clicked his tongue disapprovingly, but there was the slightest hint of a smile. He then slid his hands underneath Crowley’s underwear, and freed his cock with a gentle tug. 

“Mmm,” Crowley grunted, and his hands flew up to Aziraphale’s head, and his fingers got lost in the white-gold tendrils. 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s erection with lustful hunger, licking his lips before gently plying the head with kisses, letting his tongue slip out to taste the silky skin.

Crowley moaned and his hips started to swerve. He wanted more, but Aziraphale’s tongue was teasing pleasure in the most deliciously torturous way, with small licks that made it seem like the angel was cautiously trying a new dish before delving in.

“Fuck, Aziraphale, you’re so good,” Crowley whined, as he watched the angel tease his cock. Aziraphale smiled at this before slowly, gently, sliding the erection into his mouth, letting it fill him as he worked his way down. Crowley let out a low, desperate groan, and his eyes shut tight.

Aziraphale set a slow pace at first, allowing himself to savor the feeling of filling his mouth with Crowley as his tongue massaged the underside of the demon’s cock. 

Crowley’s fingers clenched more desperately at Aziraphale’s curls—not forcing the angel to move in a direction or at a faster pace, but indicating his own pleasure and urging the continuation of the movements. 

Aziraphale was enraptured, and he let out a soft moan when, after a few minutes of bobbing his head, he tasted Crowley’s precum. 

“Fuck,” Crowley yelped at the moan, bucking his hips once without control. Aziraphale moaned again, and found it produced the same reaction, so he picked up his pace and moaned whenever he hit the shaft’s base.

Crowley’s hips now rutted in tandem with Aziraphale’s head, and he felt pleasure building up in his abdomen and thighs. ‘I’m really going to have to work on lasting longer,’ he thought to himself in a brief moment of clarity, before the overwhelming lust overtook his mind.

The angel continued working his way up and down, sucking and moaning. The whole experience was euphoric, and Aziraphale's own cock began to grow stiff. 

“Shit Aziraphale, I’m going to….”

Aziraphale moaned again, this time slipping a miraculously slippery finger delicately into Crowley’s backside, and searching for the spot that would make him explode. 

He found it, and it did the trick. Crowley’s mind went blank as the electric pulses of pleasure surged from his cock, his hips bucking with wild abandon. He clenched Aziraphale’s curls tightly, while Aziraphale swallowed the streams of pleasure. 

With one final shiver, Crowley let go of Aziraphale, who slid Crowley’s erection out of his mouth with a wet ‘pop.’

“I daresay my dear, that was delicious,” Aziraphale mused, as he wiped excess saliva and cum from his lips with the back of his hand. 

“I’m not a bloody dessert, Angel,” Crowley moaned, his eyes still shut and his body still tingling from his climax. 

“Oh, but aren’t you?” Aziraphale purred, trying his hardest to flirt. Crowley groaned. 

Aziraphale went back up to the couch and curled up next to Crowley, patting the demon’s thigh gently. 

“I suppose it’s my turn…to, you know, make it up to you what happened with the human.”

“As much as I would absolutely love whatever it is you have in mind, you really don’t have to make up for that. If you say it was the human who transgressed and was unaided by your demonic wiles, then I believe you.”

“Well, you should believe me Angel, but….well…I do have a confession. I didn’t instigate that physical contact, that whole thing with her kissing me was very uncalled for and for that I won’t apologize. But…when I spoke to her earlier…yesterday actually, I bought wine from her…well anyways, I did get off a little on hearing her being infatuated with me. I…enjoyed it…and for that I think I must….humbly….beg for forgiveness.”

“Ahh. So the truth finally comes out,” Aziraphale said in a superior tone that was more mocking than serious. 

“Yes, Angel. I enjoyed hearing and watching the human be so…complimentary.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrow raised. “Complimentary?”

Crowley nodded. “I suppose that’s why, with the wine seller, and Freddie, and even Shadwell a little bit, I didn’t mind being around them, for a brief period of time anyways. They’d tell me I was a great man, or beautiful, or had good taste or whatever and…I liked it.”

“And what if I were to tell you you were great, and beautiful, and have good taste?”

Crowley squirmed. “I—I’m not sure. I used to hate it when you’d say anything…nice…about me, but now…”

“Interesting,” Aziraphale mused, thinking about the times over the past week of lovemaking that the angel plied Crowley with gentle compliment. He had done it absentmindedly—the natural expression of his thoughts at the time, but he had to confess that there was something exciting in the way Crowley had responded to them. “Perhaps I shall have to include that as part of your penance, listening to me compliment you.”

Crowley opened his eyes and looked at Aziraphale with need. “Would that…make you happy?” he croaked. 

“Delightfully so,” Aziraphale replied, and Crowley let out a little squeak. “But first, my dear, if you would be so kind, might you join me in a state of undress?”

Crowley nodded in agreement, and manually disrobed, down to his boxers, while Aziraphale watched in admiration. 

“Beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.” he said approvingly, and Crowley swallowed. 

“How do you want me?” Crowley asked, trying his best to ignore the compliments.

“Well,” said Aziraphale with a little twinkle in his eye. “I think it’s best that I take the..ah…wheel…so to speak. Be the one on top. For now, anyways.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, I know things got a bit angsty, and you may be disappointed in their decision to try a long distance thing, but here's my underlying motivation:
> 
> 1\. I wanted to incorporate more phone sex, as per the title  
2\. I have some very naughty Crowley dirty-talk in mind that will really play well with phone sex  
3\. I think Aziraphale should experiment more with sexting. He's got a way when it comes to texting love letters, and I do think he should perfect the art of the dick pic. 
> 
> So I'm going to do my best to limit the angst as much as possible, but there will probably be pining, and there definitely will be a lot of solo male in the upcoming chapters. And whenever you do decide to finish this story, there will be happy endings all around (and yes, I mean that in every sense of the term).
> 
> (And don't worry, I have not forgotten about that lingerie store box *waggles eyebrows*).
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for bearing with me!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The makeup sex (and see you in 6 months sex) continues, and Aziraphale and Crowley get to a good place before parting ways.

Aziraphale kissed Crowley, soft at first, but soon their tongues were clashing together in a frenzy, working both up into a sweaty fervor. The angel slid his hands up to Crowley’s hair, and gave it a gentle tug, and Crowley broke away from Aziraphale’s mouth, crying out in pleasure. Aziraphale’s eyes widened in delight at hearing the noise. 

“So beautiful, my dear. So lovely. What delicious sounds you make for me.”

“Ohh,” Crowley groaned, the feeling of the angel’s hands pulling at his hair coupled with the sudden barrage of compliments mingling together. It all created new sort of feeling. It was a little scary, and Crowley suddenly felt more naked than ever—but he didn’t want it to stop. 

Aziraphale pulled again, and Crowley one again groaned. He had enough wits about him to put a little extra oomph into the sound, and Aziraphale gasped. “Oh, yes, Crowley, oh that was so good of you. Thank you so much for making that noise for me.” 

Aziraphale kept stroking the demon’s hair, giving it gentle tugs to elicit the demon’s moans of euphoria. The angel was enjoying the spectacle—the noises, the sight—it was all incredibly arousing. He was, however, unsure of what to do next. He talked a big talk about taking the wheel, but for all the erotic literature he read, he hadn’t much of a clue when it came to what to do next. The last time (the only time) he had topped, when he came to think of it, Crowley had really been the one in control. 

He looked around the space, trying to decide where the best area would be for their exploits. The floor seemed too undignified (though he was sure Crowley wouldn’t care), and the positions they had tried in the bed at the Ritz suite would not work for the size of the couch. 

‘Well, I guess I’ll just figure it out as I go,’ he thought to himself, returning his attentions back to Crowley, who was now a mewling heap of demonic lust underneath the angel's firm hair-pulling. 

Aziraphale kissed the demon’s cheek, then jawline, then moved his way down to Crowley’s neck, keeping his hands still buried in the fiery tendrils. 

“My dearest,” Aziraphale murmured in between soft kisses. “I could kiss you forever. But will you do me a favor and, er…lean back against the armrest?”

Crowley opened his eyes, working his way back from the overwhelming euphoric state the hair pulling and compliments had lulled him into.

“Yep,” Crowley said groggily, looking at the armrest before reclining against it. He swung his legs up onto the couch, bending them at the knee. 

“Right, now the first order of business is removing these,” Aziraphale said, tugging at Crowley’s underwear. They were tight and tented, and did a remarkably good job of tempting the angel, but at this point they were more of a hindrance. 

“Alright,” Crowley said, and he wiggled himself out of them, pulling them gracefully over his knees and feet before casting them onto the floor. 

“Marvelous Crowley!” Aziraphale chirped, before he sidled up in-between Crowley’s thighs, letting one demonic leg drape over his lap while the other pressed into his back. 

“Now then, my dear, perhaps…shall I…” his finger danced over Crowley’s cleft, and Crowley nodded. Aziraphale, with the help of some lube that magically appeared, plunged inside, and Crowley groaned, his hips swerving slightly while his thighs spread even more widely. 

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale murmured as he slid his finger in and out, pressing around for the point of ecstasy. 

After a minute or so, Aziraphale slid another finger inside, and shifted his position so that he could start planting kisses upon Crowley’s inner thigh. Crowley moaned in response. 

“You taste delicious, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with wide-eyed earnest as he dragged his tongue across Crowley’s soft skin. “Absolutely scrummy.”

Crowley groaned. “Look angel maybe…maybe not that word…”

“Oh! I apologize my dear. Is there a better word?”

“Any word, really.”

“Of course, I shall come up with a synonym promptly. I want to make sure the whole experience is absolutely tickety—“

“NOT that word either,” Crowley growled. 

“Very well,” Aziraphale said, a little taken aback, and he drew his attention back to his fingers, which were still working on opening up Crowley.

“But I do love tasting you my dear,” Aziraphale said, licking the inner thigh again. “Might I..er..taste more of you?”

‘Oh fuck,’ Crowley thought ‘is Aziraphale asking—‘

“You can put your tongue anywhere you like, angel.”

“And you do remember the safe word?” Aziraphale asked.

“I do.”

“Excellent!” Aziraphale cried. “Now then, maybe you should…ah…turn around?” Aziraphale slipped his fingers out of Crowley.

At this, Crowley sat up and flipped over with his back arching and hips slightly swerving in a snakelike manner. He decided, thinking of all of the various videos and orgies he had seen in his time on earth, that perhaps getting on all fours and arching his back would be the best position, so that’s what he did. 

“Is this how you want me, angel?”

Aziraphale’s heart beat wildly at the sight, examining the curves and angles of his lover’s form. 

“Perfect, my dear,” he said and he moved behind the angel. “More than perfect. My, you really are eroticism embodied, positioned like this. I almost fear touching you lest I sully the picture.”

“Oh, but I want you to touch me, Angel. I bloody need it.”

“Well, in that case,” Aziraphale said, and he slid his hands up the back of Crowley’s thighs, fastidiously feeling and savoring every inch of skin. Crowley moaned at the touch, realizing that Aziraphale was going to draw this out as long as possible, and the demon had to bite his lip so that he wouldn't beg to be fucked right then.

Aziraphale’s hands made their way to the curve of Crowley’s backside, and they gently squeezed the flesh until he heard Crowley let out a guttural whine. Aziraphale then scooted himself closer to Crowley, and began kissing and licking him, alternating from side to side but carefully avoiding the crevice in the middle. Crowley arched his back and leaned into it, trying desperately to signal with his body how desperately he wanted to feel Aziraphale inside of him without totally ruining the moment.

But Aziraphale was blissfully peppering the skin with licks and kisses, seemingly unaware that he was driving Crowley absolutely wild with desire. Finally, the angel sucked a bit of flesh a little more aggressively, using a bit of teeth in the mix. Crowley could bear it now longer. 

“Fuck, Angel, you’re teasing me is driving me to discorporation.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale replied with surprise. “I was teasing you?”

Crowley groaned. “You were. It was nice. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate it if you…”

“Got on with the show?” Aziraphale interrupted cheekily. 

“Something like that.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, before spreading Crowley apart, looking at the demon eagerly. He slowly dragged his tongue along the cleft, before plunging it into the deep crevice. 

Crowley yowled ecstatically, the hot wet pleasure finally assuaging the need that was building up inside of him. His cock, which was hard again, was now raging with desire, and he didn’t want Aziraphale to stop. 

“Oh Fuck, Angel that’s, incredible. Oh Go—Sata—Whatever, YES.”

Aziraphale took the liberty of adding a finger to the mixture, and was happy to hear the impact it had upon Crowley. 

“Oh, Aziraphale, this is so good, so—so good,” Crowley stuttered. 

After a minute of licking and using one finger, Aziraphale slid a second, and then a third, working inside of Crowley until he felt like the demon was relaxed and open enough to receive him. 

With a final deep lick, he removed his face from Crowley’s backside and asked if he was ready.

“Yes,” Crowley moaned, “Bloody hell, yes.”

Aziraphale sat up behind Crowley, positioning his hips in the right place, and slowly eased himself inside, letting out a throaty whimper as he felt the tight, wet heat encircle his erection. 

“So good, my dear, you are so…good,” he was having trouble finding other words to say, and he began to set a pace, thrusting softly at first, but eventually clutching Crowley on the hips and working the two of them into a pounding frenzy. 

Crowley gripped the couch cushions, his eyes shut tight and his mouth agape with ecstasy. He was glad he had come already, otherwise he’d not be able to last very long in this position, grunting every time Aziraphale burrowed deeply into him. 

After a few minutes of thrusting, Aziraphale himself was on the brink of it, feeling the pleasure rise to a rolling boil in his corporeal form. With a whimper and a massive amount of self control, he slowed his pace, eventually coming to a halt. 

“Everything alright?” Crowley asked, glancing over a shoulder.

“Yes,” Aziraphale panted, sweat pouring from his brow from the exertions. “I was nearly going to spend my pleasure all at once, my dear. And I think I’d much rather be able to look at your beautiful eyes when I do. If you don’t mind.”

Crowley breathed out slowly, concentrating on lowering his heart rate without losing his hard-on. “I don’t mind at all, Angel,” he said, and with that, Aziraphale slid himself out of Crowley entirely. 

“How…um…” Aziraphale glanced around the room, unsure of what to do next. 

“Here, Angel, why don’t you just sit back on the couch, and let me take care of it,” Crowley purred. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, and positioned himself so, wiggling himself into the cushions in order to get himself comfortable. 

Crowley chuckled softly at the sight. “I am going to miss seeing you naked, Angel.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, his mouth breaking into a soft smile. “I’ll miss seeing you like this too, my dear.”

“I’ll miss touching you as well,” Crowley said, drawing a finger gingerly from Aziraphale’s shoulder down his arm. The angel shivered in response. 

“Aah, yes, well, that as well,” Aziraphale gasped. He hadn’t fully considered that with the two of them apart, touching would be off the table as well. Though they had only just started having sex, they had been touching one another with tight, loving embraces for some months now. And even before that, before the desperate cuddling, the prior decade was punctuated with the accidental brushes of hands, grazes of knees under tables, shoulders pressing against one another for the briefest of moments. 

Aziraphale knew that this, perhaps even more than the sex, was what he would miss the most. 

But his resolve didn’t fail. This time apart, he felt, was going to only bring good things to their relationship—should they want it to continue. 

“And this,” Crowley said, breaking Aziraphale out of his thoughts with a soft kiss on the cheek. It was tender, surprisingly so, and the angel felt as though he was melting. 

“Oh, my dear,” he cooed, and looked deeply into Crowley’s eyes. Crowley gasped when he saw the amount of love and affection lying underneath the pools of blue, feeling a pang in his chest strike him like Cupid’s arrow. 

“And…this,” Crowley whispered, placing his mouth squarely on Aziraphale’s. It was soft at first, but the demonic tongue soon fluttered out, tracing lines upon Aziraphale’s mouth until he opened it, allowing Crowley inside. The demon slowly worked his tongue inside, elliciting a soft whimper from the angel. At this, Crowley withdrew.

“Mmm, I will most definitely miss that.”

“As…as will I,” Aziraphale croaked softly. 

“And this,” Crowley muttered, dragging a finger gently along Aziraphale’s shaft. "I will also miss this.”

“Ohh,” was all Aziraphale could muster. 

Crowley grinned, and swung his leg up and over Aziraphale so that he now was straddling the angel’s lap. He didn’t sit down at first, keeping himself aloft on his knees. He looked into Aziraphale’s eyes, which were peering up expectantly, waiting. 

“All of you, Angel. I’m going to miss all of you,” he uttered. With one hand he found Aziraphale’s cock and gently guided it do his backside. The other hand held onto the backrest of the sofa to anchor himself, as he gently slid down onto Aziraphale, taking him in as deeply as he could. 

Both of them groaned as Crowley reached the base. They didn’t break eye contact as this occurred, and the connecting gazes only increased the arousal. 

“I love you Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, the words drawn out of him as though from another force. 

“I love you too, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered back, his words almost squeaking as his whole body began to tingle with pleasure. Crowley’s mouth turned up into a tender smile—softer than his usual wry smirk, and he brought a hand up to caress the angel’s cheek (his other still holding onto the backrest). Aziraphale leaned into Crowley’s palm, his thick eyelashes fluttering as he shut his eyes. 

“Oh…Angel,” Crowley gasped, and he began to roll his hips and arch his back, bringing himself up and down along Aziraphale’s erection. 

“I’ve wanted this, wanted you for so long,” Crowley said, continuing his slow pace astride Aziraphale’s lap. Aziraphale murmured incoherently, his hands wandering up Crowley’s thighs and finding purchase against the demon’s hips. He held them gently, not so that he may force his own pace, but so that he might fully savor Crowley’s movements on top of him. 

Though sex and sexual desire were all new to Aziraphale, he knew that this moment was something special. It lacked some of the wanton passion from earlier, and was instead more tender. It reminded him somewhat of the first night they spent together after the apocalypse, when Crowley, in his apartment, lost his self-control and held onto the angel tightly, burying his face into the shoulder and letting out soft sobs. 

“You’re not losing me, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered suddenly. Crowley’s hips stopped rolling for a moment, and he looked at Aziraphale, his chest rising and falling with shaky breath. “No matter what happens, no matter where we decide to go in six months time, you’ll never lose me. Not really.”

The words broke something in Crowley. “Oh Angel,” he squeaked, and his lips crashed into Aziraphale’s passionate and desperate, teeth scraping together as Crowley rolled his hips with a new urgency. Aziraphale chirped at this, and Crowley moved his mouth along the angel’s jaw, dragging his tongue down to Aziraphale’s neck. “Angel,” he growled, and he planted his mouth against the skin, sucking with a force as his hips picked up pace, plunging Aziraphale into himself deeper and deeper. 

Aziraphale was taken aback by this sudden fervor, and his hands slid back to Crowley’s backside, and he clenched the muscle tightly in his palms. 

“Oh, oh God, Oh my dear,” was all Aziraphale could manage between pants, as Crowley’s hand made its way to Aziraphale’s hair. He pulled on the curls forcing Aziraphale’s head to the side and allowing him greater access to the angel’s neck, which he continued to mark with deep purple hickeys, licking each blossom before moving to another spot. His hips rolled with continued force, and he clenched, trying to drag pleasure out of the angel beneath him. 

Aziraphale was lost now, completely overtaken by the passion of the moment. The stinging but delicious feeling of Crowley biting and sucking at his neck, the hips rolling atop his lap like a sort of gallop, were all bringing Aziraphale right up to the brink. 

“My—my dear, I—I’m..”

“Come for me, Aziraphale,” Crowley rasped into his ear. “I want to feel you spill yourself inside of me.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale moaned as the pleasure built up to the edge. He was almost there so close. He began to buck his hips in sync with Crowley’s pace, and his finger dug deeply into Crowley’s backside. 

Crowley pulled his face back, and looked at Aziraphale directly, the eyes shut tightly and his mouth open in ecstasy. “Fuck Aziraphale, this is so hot, you are so hot,” Crowley continued, as Aziraphale opened his eyes, looking directly at Crowley. The demon didn't break their eye contact as he continued, “I’m going to remember you exactly like this over the next six months, your cock hard inside of me, your lips parted like a pornstar. God it’s going to make me cum so—“

“OH” Aziraphale yelped as pleasure pulsated out of him and inside of Crowley, his eyes nearly fluttering shut, but still holding Crowley's gaze. His hips bucked, and Crowley worked on clenching the erection, doing his best to squeeze every drop of cum out of Aziraphale’s dick. 

As Aziraphale thrust one last time, his eyes bleary with lust spent. He then looked down noting Crowley was still hard. 

“Oh my dear,” he said, and he brought a hand swiftly to encircle Crowley’s shaft. “Please, let me see you come again my dear. I’ll keep myself hard for you until you do” (he was almost certain he could do that—though this would certainly be an experiment). 

Crowley’s eyes shut when Aziraphale grabbed him, and he squirmed a little bit, shifting positions so that he could feel Aziraphale’s erection graze him in just the right spot. “Mmm,” he moaned, swerving his hips to hit the spot over and over again. 

“You’re so beautiful, Crowley. And so good. Look at you. In all my years, I have never seen a sight so breathtaking as watching you come. And it’s not just the way you look, my dear. It’s you, you radiate beauty in a way that practically changes reality itself. It is so delicious, so intoxicating, I never want to look away.”

Crowley winced slightly at the compliments, but he also let out a lascivious whimper that told Aziraphale that this was, indeed, working. The angel then moved his free hand up to Crowley’s hair, and scratched his fingertips over his scalp before giving the tendrils a soft tug. 

Crowley yelped, his hips bucking, and precum seeping over the tip of his cock. Aziraphale noticed the glisten, and rubbed his thumb over the top, spreading the wetness around a bit. 

“That’s it my dear, oh this is incredible hearing you moan like that. Do it again, will you please,” And Aziraphale pulled his hair again. Crowley whimpered, his mind having reached a place of complete euphoria. With every tug at his hair, he was brought deeper and deeper into a state of total mindlessness, feeling nothing but the angel’s fingers gripping his hair, the angel’s hand stroking his cock, and the angel’s cock burrowing into his backside. 

Aziraphale quickened his strokes, hoping the new speed would sent Crowley over the edge. 

It didn’t at first, though Crowley was clearly standing on the precipice, ready to fall into orgasm at any second. 

“Oh my dear, you’re so lovely. Please come for me,” Aziraphale purred, while simultaneously fisting as much hair as he could manage and pulling harder than he had before. 

The pain, the pleasure, the desire to do whatever Aziraphale wanted, overwhelmed Crowley and he came, pleasure searing inside of him like an ember, burning through his body, over his legs, inside his ass, and through his cock, before flowing out of him in sticky ribbons that landed on both of their stomachs. Crowley writhed and shuddered, letting the orgasm complete fully before he opened his eyes to find Aziraphale gazing upon him, eyes twinkling with something like admiration and pride. 

“What that pleasurable, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, stroking the demon’s hair affectionately. 

Crowley cleared his throat and shook his head. “It was Angel. It really was.”

They miracled the mess away before Crowley removed himself from Aziraphale’s lap. 

“Angel, that was…”

“Ineffable?” Aziraphale teased. 

“Actually…” Crowley looked over, smiling at Aziraphale. 

“Oooh,” Aziraphale laughed, slapping Crowley’s chest gently. 

Crowley let out a loud, contented sigh. “I suppose if we are going to have a sendoff, that was the way to do it.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale agreed with a little wiggle. 

"Though, as a personal goal, I'm going to try and make myself last longer next time."

"Hmm," Aziraphale replied thoughtfully.

They didn’t touch one another, but were instead seated in the same pose that they often found themselves. Crowley slouching on the angel’s left, while Aziraphale sat upright, his hands folded primly in his lap. 

“So, six months,” Crowley said. “Shall we mark it on a calendar.”

“That is a good idea. And we should probably select a location to meet.”

“The Empire State Building,” Crowley joked. 

“The…Empire State Building?” Aziraphale echoed hesitantly. “Well I was rather thinking of something a little more personal, you know. Though I have never been there, so perhaps. I suppose it is a rather good idea.”

“No, Aziraphale it’s a reference to—-you know what? Nevermind. It is a good idea. But you’re right, we should select somewhere more personal. But not either of our places—it should be somewhere neutral.”

“There’s always St. James,” Aziraphale suggested. “Or, oh I don’t know, the coffee shop at the British Museum?”

Crowley grunted. “Does it have to be in London?”

“Well…no…I suppose there’s always Tadfield. Or Paris.”

Crowley groaned. Neither of those sounded good either. Nor did Rome, or any of the other myriad of places the two had met previously. He wanted something…new.

“What about…what about that cottage in South Downs?” Crowley suggested. “I mean, I know I’ve seen it already, but I do think you’d like it. It’s…nice.” Crowley nearly choked on the word, though it was an accurate enough description of the place.

“Is it?” Aziraphale beamed back. “Well, that could work, I suppose. Yes, my dear. Let’s meet there.”

“Great,” Crowley said, leaning his head back against the backrest, and shutting his eyes. 

“Are you going to go to sleep Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Might do,” Crowley replied with a yawn. “Unless you object.”

“I don’t my dear. You do look rather lovely when you sleep. Only, I don’t suppose this couch is comfortable.”

“Well…” Crowley muttered. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, only he didn’t really want to muster the energy to move. 

“Well, why don’t I…” Aziraphale trailed off, and then, with an indulgent miracle and a thud, the couch and other objects in the room were pushed aside, and a fluffy bed appeared in the middle of the room. It was not as big as Crowley’s but it was big enough to accommodate the two of them. It had a tartan comforter and large, overstuffed pillows, and a wooden headrest.

“Oh!” Crowley yelped, surprised at the sudden movement of the sofa, and appearance of new furniture. “Aziraphale, I’m…” Crowley’s voice trailed off.

“Well, I thought this might be a nice alternative to either driving back to your place or sleeping on the couch here. I hope you will find it suitable.”

Crowley smiled. “It’s perfect, angel,” he said, and he clamored over to the mattress, collapsing headfirst into the softness as he inhaled. It smelled of Aziraphale, for some reason, though he knew the angel didn’t have a bed. He wondered at that for a moment, but decided not to bring it up. He was too content to move. 

Aziraphale slid into bed next to him, sitting up against the backrest and stroking Crowley’s hair. The demon murmured at the touch, nuzzling himself deeper in the comforter and stretching out a hand until it came upon Aziraphale’s leg. 

Soon, the demon fell asleep, and in his sleep he squirmed up next to the angel. Aziraphale himself didn’t sleep, but caressed his lover tenderly, whispering “my dear”s and “I love you”s well into the morning. 

….

It had been six days since Crowley and Aziraphale parted ways. The demon was aboard a massive yacht, which was supposed to be headed to Ibiza, but was instead docked mainland due to inclement weather. It had been stuck there for three bloody days. The whole thing was turning into a massive failure, and Crowley’s sour mood was putting the crew members all on edge.

Crowley sat in his cabin, watching a video on his phone to try and distract himself from the incessant rain, and the fact that he was not with Aziraphale. These past six days had been almost like torture. He thought about Aziraphale constantly, the smallest thing reminding him of the way the angel smiled, or something the angel said. He’d hear a story and want to tell Aziraphale about it, but he had to wait. He got in the habit of writing notes on his phone of all the things he wanted to relay to the angel when they finally spoke on the phone.

He looked forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow he would finally get to talk to Aziraphale, hear his voice, tell him about all the food in Spain and the way the ringing church bells reminded him of the angel’s laughter. He’d also, of course, try to convince Aziraphale into having phone sex. Well, at least, he would suggest it—he didn’t want to overstep, but he was very much interested in trying out some material he had been working on that he was sure the angel would appreciate. 

The video ended—some collection of old fail-videos set to a modern song—and he clicked on another video to load something else stupid and mindless. 

Then, all of a sudden, his phone buzzed with an incoming message from Aziraphale. 

His eyebrow raised as he opened it, and saw…another dick pick. His mouth turned up in the most lascivious smile. 

“You bastard,” he said approvingly, licking his lips. “Couldn’t even wait the whole seven days, could you?” The picture was accompanied by a rather long text message, and before reading it, Crowley decided to remove his trousers and recline on the bed, in preparation for whatever lengthy thing his apparently very aroused angel had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, everyone, here's the situation.
> 
> I have several more chapters for this planned-BUT-it will be a few days (week tops) before I get back to it, so I wanted to get to this place beforehand. 
> 
> The reason I am pausing for a little longer than normal is because I thought of a really, really fun historical Crowley-with-a-vulva and some lesbian stuff, smutty and a bit fluffy one-shot that I have to write before it leaves my brain. Ahhh, it's going to be good, and I've never written Crowley with a vulva before, so it'll be a whole new challenge. Like, I am super stoked about this.
> 
> Anyways, once that is up, I'll return to this story! I swear. These two will have a satisfying, happy, and healthy ending.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley gets a text message from Aziraphale and a dick pic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really quick chapter, while I keep working on my other piece. I apologize that it is rather short, but I wanted you to know I haven't forgotten about this story!
> 
> Note that things are smutty but much less smutty than earlier chapters. Don't worry there will be phone sex, just not yet ;)

Aziraphale had not intended to sent the message a day early. He had, rather, lost track of the day and believed it to be a full week since he last saw Crowley. 

Here is what happened. 

After Crowley left the bookshop, Aziraphale decided to pour himself into the new prophesies of Agnes Nutter. He took copious notes, trying to figure out when it seemed likely that he or Crowley were mentioned. He tried organizing the different entries into themes, attempted to put a timeline to everything to determine when events would take place, but he was having very little luck working it all out.   
He remained like this for 6 whole days, drinking countless mugs of cocoa. Then, on the morning of the sixth day, a customer in his shop interrupted his study. 

“Ahem, excuse me sir, but I believe someone left this.”

Aziraphale looked up, mildly irritated but somehow still smiling. He saw the customer holding a package, and not just any package. It was the package containing the items he purchased from the lingerie shop. 

“Aahh ha, yes, well, good of you to, uh, bring it here. I’ll just, erm, store it back here, for safekeeping until the rightful owner comes to claim it.”

The customer eyed Aziraphale curiously, but handed over the package and left. Aziraphale gulped, and set the package aside, keeping it unopened. 

He returned to the book, but his mind was no longer focused. He kept thinking about lingerie, and Crowley, and the contents of the box. He remained in this agitated state, trying to focus, until finally in the afternoon he stood up and began to pace the shop. He glanced at other books of prophesy, he reviewed his notes, he made himself another cup of cocoa, but his brain was not cooperating. He kept thinking of Crowley, reminiscing over their sexual encounters.

Finally, Aziraphale sighed, flipped the sign to ‘Closed’ and decided to do something uncharacteristic. 

He decided to take a nap on his sofa. He didn’t often sleep, though with Crowley around it seemed to happen more and more. Sleep, Aziraphale thought, might help him refocus, clear his mind, help him continue his study of the book of prophesy. 

So, Aziraphale took a nap, and fell into a deep sleep. But instead of clear his mind of Crowley, his subconscious put the demon right at the center of a dream. 

A sex dream. The first sex dream Aziraphale had ever experienced. 

When he woke up, hard and sticky, he looked around the space to see what time it is. The antique clock read 7:00, which Aziraphale took to mean 7 am. Thinking he had slept through the night, and overwhelmed by the intense dream of Crowley (and not thinking completely clearly) he decided to document the whole thing in a text message, which would of course include a picture of himself. 

….

Crowley lounged back into the bed, and began to palm himself over his silk underwear. He wasn’t hard yet, but he knew he would be very, very soon. 

The picture Aziraphale sent was dark and blurry, but it almost looked to Crowley like the angel had already ejaculated. 

“You fucking dirty bastard,” Crowley said approvingly, and he turned his attentions to the rather long text message. 

Here is what it said:

“My Dear Crowley,

I understand that this text may come as a surprise to you, being that it is so early in the morning on the day we were supposed to talk.”

—‘Ah,’ Crowley thought to himself a little confused. ‘Aziraphale thinks it’s tomorrow morning. Angel lost track of time. Again.’ 

He continued to read.

“But, well, something rather interesting has occurred that I wanted to share with you because, it was rather alarming (though not in a bad way), and I could use your advice. You see, I decided to take a small nap, and when I fell asleep I had the most remarkable dream. You and I were in your flat here in London, only your bed had a tartan comforter.”

Crowley winced at the thought of this, then continued.

"We both had on matching lingerie, like the kind I wore before (and I do have to say my dear, you did look rather fetching in pink). We were modeling it to one another at first, but then we started to kiss. Then, the next moment, I was on my back at the edge of the bed, knees up in the air, while you, standing, were penetrating me with a great vigor. Your wings were unfurled, and I realized mine were too, and they were somehow propelling you deeper and deeper into me. You had one hand clenched around my erection, and you pumped it with such determination, my dear, that I cried out your name and felt the burning ardor build in my loins until it finally released. And what was most intriguing was that when I ejaculated in my dream, it happened in reality as well, for I woke up feeling the final surges of it escaping me. Of course, I was fully clothed, and now I must do something about the mess, but I first wanted to show you because I am not sure if this is normal, and I’m not sure exactly what to do, my dear. Has this happened to you? Is this something I should expect? I hope this doesn’t come as too great a shock.

Anyways, dearest, I do miss you, and I hope you are having a wonderful time on your trip.

All my love,

Aziraphale”

Crowley’s cock was now completely erect, and he slipped his hand beneath his underwear. He stroked his length, slow at first but building up with a quick pace. He wanted to come as soon as possible. 

He shut his eyes tightly, thinking about Aziraphale, hard and bucking in his sleep, a wet spot seeping into his wool trousers. He thought about pounding him the way he had in the dream. It was delicious, and oh Satan did Crowley want it. 

The pleasure built into a simmer and was turning into a roaring boil, when suddenly—-

there was a knock on the door. 

“Mr. Crowley,” a crew member called out with an accent. “The weather has improved, and we are prepared to set out for Ibiza.

“Nngk,” Crowley cried out, pulling himself out of the nearing orgasm, and feeling incredibly irritated at the unwelcome interruption. He hissed, cooling himself down before replying sharply.

“What?” 

“If you are ready, we can take off for Ibiza, Mr. Crowley. The weather is improved.” 

Crowley stared at the ceiling, his chest heaving with his ragged breath. 

Ibiza. Did he still want to go to Ibiza? 

No, he decided. He needed to get farther away from Aziraphale. If this thing, this long distance relationship or whatever, was going to work, he needed to be far enough away to where he wouldn't be tempted to slip across the channel. 

America. He’d go to America.

….

Aziraphale was a little disappointed when he didn’t receive a response from Crowley right away. He stared at the darkened screen of his phone, not leaving the couch, before finally sighing and looking around. Perhaps a cup of tea would suit him—he’d really overdone it with cocoa as of late. He stretched and made himself a cup, and he returned to his phone, clicking it and looking at the screen. 

Which is when he noticed the date. It nearly made him drop his tea.

“Oh my goodness!” he exclaimed, feeling absolutely mortified at his error. It was still the 6th day. It was evening, not morning. And he, Aziraphale, had broken a rule that he and Crowley agreed upon. 

He unlocked his phone, and began to fumble to the text messages. He was in the process of typing out a lengthy apology, when suddenly the phone buzzed. 

Crowley was calling. 

He stared at it, debating whether he should answer. It was still the sixth day, after all, and his breaking of the rules was entirely accidental. But ignoring the call would probably not be fair to Crowley. So, he gulped, and answered.

“Hello?

“You wicked angel,” Crowley rasped into the phone. Aziraphale could practically hear the sneer. 

“Oh, my dear, I do apologize. I…I thought it was tomorrow! You see, I fell asleep and—“

“Sure. Fell asleep did you? You sure you just couldn’t wait to have phone sex?” Crowley’s tone was playful, but accusatory.

“Well,” Aziraphale started, feeling his cheeks and ears burning. “I—I mean, it really was an accident Crowley. 

“Right,” Crowley said. “An accident. If you say so, Angel.”

Aziraphale huffed a little. “I am truly sorry my dear.”

“Ahh, it’s alright,” Crowley said. “I’m flattered, really.”

“Oh, but, my dear…is that…I mean, has that ever happened to you?”

“What, having a wet dream?”

“Er…yes…”

“Loads of times.”

“Ahh.”

“Usually when I’m stressed out, or haven’t had a time for a wank.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said, mentally taking note of this. Perhaps he would have to practice self pleasure regularly—it was something to consider, at any rate.

“Would you like me to tell you about one of those dreams?” Crowley asked, his voice a little breathy. 

Aziraphale’s heart raced. He did want that, his curiosity was piqued. But on the other hand, the angel regarded that this was a day early for them to be talking, and that phone sex was something they were going to try and avoid, at least at first. 

“Perhaps next time, my dear,” Aziraphale said sorrowfully. A whimper on the other side of the line nearly made him reconsider, but he thought that this would be for the best. “Should I call you tomorrow and we can resume our chat on the proper day?”

“Can’t,” Crowley replied rather curtly. “Change of plans, I’ll be traveling.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, feeling a pang of disappointment that they wouldn’t be able to talk the next day. “Where are you off to, then?”

“Las Vegas,” Crowley said. “Been a while since I was there. Might be fun.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said, trying his best to be supportive, though something tugged at his heartstrings. “And how long will you be staying?”

“Haven’t decided. I’ll see when I get there. Maybe I’ll spend the whole 6 months there, who knows.”

“Ahh. Yes. Well, I do hope you enjoy yourself my dear.”

“Oh, I plan on it, Angel,” Crowley said with a low voice that made Aziraphale’s heart pine for the demon. Aziraphale said nothing in response, letting the silence grow awkward. 

Crowley eventually cleared his throat. “So, then, are you still at your bookshop?”

“I am.”

“Haven’t left it at all?”

“Actually…no.”

Crowley tutted. “Maybe you should go out to a restaurant. Get yourself some sushi.”

“That’s a marvelous idea, my dear,” Aziraphale said, smiling. 

“It is,” Crowley agreed. “So, then, should I let you go?”

Aziraphale thought. Was there anything else to say? He supposed not. 

“That sounds good, Crowley. And do enjoy yourself. I mean that,” he said as earnestly as possible. He did want Crowley to have a good time, even if it was hard to say it. Crowley grunted in response. 

“When should we talk next? 7 days from now, or from tomorrow?”

“I’ll let you decide, Angel. Just call me when you want.”

“Very well Crowley. Goodnight. And I love you.”

“I..I love you too. Angel.”

….

“So close,” Crowley said aloud after the call ended. He was still on the yacht, lying on the bed, completely naked, and thinking about how he almost tempted the angel into phone sex. Well, at least he was pretty sure the angel wanted phone sex. At any rate, he was sure he could have helped Aziraphale get off for a second time that evening. 

But, the text message was at least something. It would probably be enough material for him to jerk off to for the next week. He closed his eyes and hissed, letting his hand encircle his semi-erect cock, and he thought of Aziraphale. He pumped, slow at first, until he was fully hard. He then summoned some lube, and his movements hastened with the new slickness. 

His eyes were shut and he began to moan, letting the heat build up and spread throughout his body. He thought of Aziraphale, his skin, his ass, the way his lips felt when they were sucking his dick. "Aziraphale, oh fuck," he groaned, pumping faster and faster until finally he came, his hips bucking and toes clenching while cum spurted all over his stomach. 

When he was finished he looked down at his mess. He might normally let himself savor the feeling of his wet sticky pleasure, feeling delightfully wicked at the deed he had done, but tonight he wasn't really interested. With a snap it was gone, and he curled up, grasping a pillow to his chest, and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading along. Like I said I'm still working on that other piece (the historical one with Crowley with a vulva) which has been harder to write than anticipated. So I'll keep updating this, but the chapters will be a little shorter while I'm doing the other work. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter even if it was short and didn't have actual phone sex. ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is in Las Vegas, and Aziraphale is still in the bookshop. Things get a little hot and heavy over the phone.

Las Vegas was turning out to be a bust as well. Crowley had been there for a week, and hadn’t been able to do even one temptation.

Crowley lounged in the suite at the Venetian, looking out over the Strip. Sure, in theory, there were lots of things to distract him: shows, gambling, drinking, shopping. Sin City was indeed still living up to its name. But that was the problem. The sin. It not only attracted humans looking to be tempted.

It also attracted demons. Lots and lots of demons. 

Crowley didn’t remember there being so many demons when he was last in Vegas several decades ago. Perhaps word eventually trickled down to hell that this was an easy mark, a place where you could do all kinds of demonic activity. 

What was hilarious (to Crowley who was keenly aware of this) was that the demonic activity was so rampant, that it was actually cancelling itself out. One demon would tempt a man into gambling, whereas the next would tempt him into sex, then booze, and before you knew it, the man was pulled in every direction, drunk, penniless, passed out at a slot machine, and about to nurse a hangover and repent every decision he made. 

When humans were overly stimulated with temptation (and gave in a little too much), it tended to push them in the wrong (or, rather, the right) direction. They felt guilt, regret, and made lots of promises to never again be so hedonistic. 

Crowley was unsure of exactly how many demons were in Las Vegas at the moment, but he had spotted at least a dozen. He had tried to trail a bachelor party, and tempt them into going to an illegal establishment, but that was thwarted when a lower demon lurched out of the shadows and espied Crowley suspiciously. Crowley then went to a nightclub, where he was planning on switching out the gin and vodka for water, but another demon was already tempting several people on the dance floor into starting what was probably going to turn into some kind of orgy. Crowley ducked out before that demon could spot him.

There were several more in casinos, lurking around the high roller tables. One was dressed like a prostitute and soliciting. It seemed practically everywhere Crowley tried to situate himself, there was yet another demon. 

Even before the Not-Apocalypse, Crowley did not enjoy being around other demons. But now, there was almost an added danger. They, Hell and Crowley, had somewhat agreed to leave one another alone (for now) and Crowley was not interested in poking the beast anymore than he had to. If he never saw another demon again for the rest of eternity, he would be perfectly happy. 

So, after a couple of unsuccessful days, Crowley procured a couple of bottles of very expensive scotch, and made his way up to the suite, where he decided to spend the remainder of the week watching pay-per-view. At least the porn on his television was decent. 

Vegas, it seemed, was not going to be the place for him.

…

Aziraphale kept at the new book of prophesy. He believed he deciphered something about the soldiers of hell joining the celestial forces, but he was unsure about how far into the future that was. It was about 2/3rds of the way through the book, but there were no dates. 

He then got the idea to look at his other books of prophesy, to see if anything aligned. This was going to take a great deal of time, however, and he had to try and eliminate as many as possible. He decided Nostradamus was the most logical place to start, and began comparing various prophesies, but the whole thing was making his eyes cross. 

Suddenly, a little alarm on his phone began to chime. He picked it up confusedly at first, but when he saw the screen, his mouth turned up into a smile. 

It was the alarm he had set last week, after he and Crowley got off the phone with one another. He had remembered seeing something about alarms in the phone’s manual, and so with a bit of effort (and minimal magic) he figured out how to set a notification for seven days. So long as the phone remained charged (which it thankfully did for the week because of disuse), Aziraphale would be reminded of when seven days was. 

It was an excellent plan, and Aziraphale congratulated himself. His tendency to lose track of time when he was lost in his books was helpfully thwarted by this latest human technology.

…

Crowley was flipping through porn stations at midnight, trying to settle on one that would help get him off. None of them were exactly what he wanted (which was Aziraphale, of course) but there was a rather sweet couple going at it in missionary position that appealed to Crowley. 

Truth be told, he would rather be asleep, but he promised Aziraphale he wouldn’t just sleep the 6 months away. He hadn’t thought to ask if naps or overnights were alright, so he opted to stay awake just in case (though the next time he talked to Aziraphale he would have to clarify). 

Crowley’s cock was flaccid, so he slowly palmed it over his black satin underwear. The bottom on television was moaning rather deliciously, and Crowley closed his eyes and imagined it was Aziraphale making those noises. 

Suddenly, just as he was beginning to get hard, his phone buzzed. He sighed, expecting it to be a spam caller (how did they keep getting his number anyways? Well it didn’t matter, everyone who spam called Crowley regretted it), but when he looked at the screen and saw Aziraphale, his heart skipped a beat. 

Then there was a little panic. He was watching porn, and while Aziraphale said that Crowley was free to do whatever he wanted, there was a little bit of guilt. With a snap, the TV turned off, and Crowley answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“Angel?”

“Crowley, my dear! It is good to hear your voice.”

“Likewise. Has it been a week already?”

“Indeed! I’ve set an alarm on my mobile telephone in order to keep on top of it,” Aziraphale said proudly. 

Crowley chuckled. “Good for you, Aziraphale.”

“Why thank you. And how are you, my dear?”

“I”m well, Angel. Though Vegas is….” Crowley stopped himself. He wasn’t really supposed to tell Aziraphale what he was up to, was he (even if there was nothing to tell)? He bit his lip. He could mention the fact that demons were everywhere, but it would probably only make Aziraphale worry, and Crowley was perfectly fine. Just bored.

“Y-yes?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly. 

“Well…it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. 

“Ohh,” rasped the angel, sounding a little relieved. 

There was an awkward silence. 

“Aziraphale?” Crowley asked eventually. “Are you still there?”

“I am Crowley,” he replied quietly. 

Crowley sighed a little. “Look, Angel. Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t mention where I am? If it’s only going to make things uncomfortable?”

“But…my dear, what if there’s an emergency?”

“Well…” Crowley tried to form an idea. “Tell you what, Aziraphale. Let me do a little intervention, and there’ll be an app on your phone that, if you open it, will tell you where in the world I am. And I promise, I won’t leave the world without telling you.”

“An app. Is that….that would be one of the small icons on the phone, correct?”

“Yeah, Angel. Anyways, it’ll tell us both where the other one is. You don’t have to open it, it won’t notify you of anything, and it’ll just be…in case of emergencies. Does that sound alright to you?”

There was a little pause before Aziraphale said, “Yes, Crowley. I think that is perhaps a good idea.”

…....

Aziraphale was unsure of the app, but he did know that when Crowley mentioned he was in Vegas, he felt a small pang in his chest. It would, he decided, be better if he didn’t know precisely where Crowley was, especially if he was going to be in dens of iniquity. 

There was a small pinging sound on his phone, and he looked at the screen to see a new icon that had a picture of a purple smiling devil. 

“Do you see the app angel? That’s me. If you want to find be, it’ll be there. And it isn’t my phone either, it’s just me. And I can do the same with you.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Good. I suppose that is, ah, very good.”

There was another awkward silence. Had their conversations been this awkward before? Aziraphale didn’t think so. There was so much he wanted to share with Crowley, about the book, but he knew that Crowley did not want to hear or think about prophesy, and Aziraphale was going to respect those wishes.

“So…still in your bookshop angel?”

Aziraphale let out a nervous laugh. “I confess I am. Creature of habit, I suppose.”

“You are,” Crowley teased. “But, I suppose that’s why I like you.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said with renewed interest. “Is that why you like me?”

“One of the reasons. You may be absent minded, but you are awfully predictable.”

“And you, my dear, are predictable in your unpredictability.”

Crowley laughed. “Am I?”

“Well, you do try very hard to be unpredictable,” Aziraphale goaded. “It is, at times, effective.”

“Ahh. And is that why you like me, Angel?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I suppose it must be one of the reasons.”

“Oh, so there’s more than one?”

“Are you fishing for compliments, you wily demon?”

“Ahh, err, well…” Crowley, “I…might…eh, it doesn’t matter. What are you up to now?”

“Well, I was just,” Aziraphale paused, looking at the books of prophesy that were before him. He decided to move onto the couch. “I was just going through some old books.”

“Of course you were. Anything good?”

“Well…nothing yet. And I probably shouldn’t ask you what you were up to.”

“Probably shouldn’t, but as it happens, I was thinking about you.”

Aziraphale felt butterflies in his stomach at this. “Were you?”

“I was, Angel,” Crowley said, his voice suddenly low and velvety. Aziraphale swallowed. He recognized that voice, and he loosened his bowtie, feeling suddenly very flushed. He ought to chastise the demon, he thought to himself. He ought to put an end to the conversation, or at least steer it in a chaste direction. But he did neither of those things. Instead, giving into his curiosity he asked, 

“What about me?”

…

Crowley smiled to himself. He wasn’t going to pressure the angel into phone sex, nor was he even going to say the words…but he was going to set it out there, subtly, see if Aziraphale wanted a bite. 

“Well…I’m not sure it would be appropriate to say, exactly.”

“Ahh,” said Aziraphale, sounding a little disappointed. 

“But, I could tell you, if you really wanted to know. Do you really want to know, Angel?”

“I—yes?” Aziraphale replied hesitantly. 

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Crowley.”

“Well, in that case. I was thinking about…your waistcoat.”

“My…my waistcoat?!” Aziraphale sounded confused. 

Crowley smiled. “Of course. Your waistcoat.”

“Why…what…what about my waistcoat.”

“It’s so velvety, Aziraphale. Very soft. I was thinking about how soft it was.”

“I…you were?”

“Mmmm. So soft. I wish I could just slide my hands up it right now. Dance my fingertips over it. I miss the way it feels.” Crowley rasped.

“You..you do?”

“Oh, I do Angel. Tell me, are you wearing it now?”

“I am,” Aziraphale said resolutely.”

“And does it still feel soft?”

“I…well I’m sure it does, Crowley.”

“Will you feel it for me? Just to make sure?”

There was a slight pause. 

“It feels just the same as ever,” Aziraphale said. 

“Mmmm. And are you still stroking it, Angel? Still feeling how soft it is against your skin?”

“I…am…” Aziraphale stuttered. 

“Oh, how I wish that were me, stroking it,” Crowley purred. “Rubbing my hand up and down the velvety fabric. Touching it. Touching…you.”

There was a little gasp at the end of the line on the word 'you.' Crowley stopped and raised an eyebrow. 

“Is that too much Angel?” Crowley asked, his voice still low and gravely, but his question was sincere. “I can stop telling you what I’m thinking about if it’s too much.”

“No, that’s. No, my dear. Please do go on. If you don’t mind.”

Crowley smiled, and leaned back against the headrest. His cock was still semi-erect, and he let his hand wander back to it, feeling the stiffness against the palm of his hand. 

“Well then. I was also thinking about your trousers,” Crowley said.

“My trousers?”

“Yes. The material is soft, but has a bit of a scratch to them, you know. Every time I rub my hands up your thighs its the first thing I notice, the slight scratch. Are you wearing them now?” Crowley asked, feigning innocence.

“I am.”

“And tell me, angel. When you rub your hands up your thigh, does it scratch you just a little? The fabric?”

“It…erm…it does. Just a little.”

Crowley clicked his tongue. “Shame that.”

“Yes, well, at least they aren’t so tight that I can barely bend my knees. Like the way someone I know dresses.”

“Ah!” Crowley scoffed, mocking offense. “I suppose you’re critiquing my attire, now?”

“No, Crowley. You alway look very fetching my dear. Only I do wonder if your clothing is comfortable.”

“Beauty before comfort, Angel.”

“Hm,” grumbled Aziraphale. 

“Though…well, I suppose it is worth noting, since you’re being particularly critical right now, that I am not actually wearing my jeans.”

There was a gulp on the other line. “You’re not?” Aziraphale’s question was a little breathy. Crowley licked his lips in response. 

“No. Nor am I wearing my shirt.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not naked, though, Angel, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” Aziraphale replied, almost disappointed. 

“I have my briefs on. The satin ones. Now these…oh these…” he paused to let out a little hiss as he traced the waistband with his finger. “These feel wonderful beneath my fingers. Not at all scratchy. Very soft…very…smooth.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Yes, well, of course you do always go for luxury, my dear.”

“Oh, as if you didn’t at some points in your life, Angel. Reign of Terror ring any bells?”

“Erm…” Aziraphale didn’t say anything else.

“Oh, not that you should feel too bad, Angel. I did often think of you like that. In that cell, wearing those fine brocades and satin shoes. You were divine.”

“You…thought about me in those clothes?”

“Yessss,” hissed Crowley, and he began to palm himself with a little more vigor, thinking about how daft and beautiful the angel looked in the Bastille. 

“Perhaps someday I should tell you about what I did that night, after we had crepes. Would you like to hear that story?”

“I..yes, Crowley. You could tell me now.”

Crowley laughed. “No, I’m not telling you now. Plenty of time for that, angel.”

Aziraphale whimpered a little, but said nothing. 

“At any rate, Angel, I haven’t finished telling you what I was thinking about. Should I continue with that?”

“If you’d like.”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I…I do, Crowley.”

Crowley smiled, and slipped his hand beneath his briefs, taking his length in his hand and slowly pumping.

“Good, angel.”

…

Aziraphale’s breath was becoming a little unsteady, as heat began to simmer in his loins and abdomen. His hand was still rubbing his thigh, he realized, only his fingers were starting to exert more pressure and he began to dig into the fabric, scratching their way slowly up and down. He was thinking about Crowley, wearing only his luxurious briefs, the sharp contours of his body rippling as his body swerved. Aziraphale thought of touching Crowley’s skin, licking and kissing his chest, his abs, and feeling the silk and hardness beneath his fingers. 

His want for Crowley grew, the blood flowing into his erection and creating delicious hardness. He hadn’t orgasmed since his wet dream, and his body was suddenly very, very needy. 

He wanted to come. And he wanted Crowley to come too. 

“I…is there…is there something I should do?” Aziraphale asked, feeling a little nervous. 

“You should do whatever you want, Angel. Whatever feels right…and good.”

“Oh, okay.” 

“I was thinking about your underwear, you know.” Crowley said.

“You…you were?” Aziraphale stammered. 

“I was. By way of comparison. Yours is soft, much softer than your trousers. But it’s not silky like mine. Though, it still feels nice.”

“Yes, I suppose that is true,” Aziraphale agreed. “Shall I…um…feel that as well?”

“Well, I mean, er, only if you want,” Crowley replied. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said, and he unbuttoned his trousers and unzipped the fly. He didn’t remove them all together, but he opened them just wide enough to be able to feel the waistband, the small flap, and the hardness that they covered. His breath hitched slightly when his fingertips grazed his head. 

“Are you alright, Angel?

“Yes,” Aziraphale squeaked. “I’m..erm..Feeling my underwear. Making sure they are still…soft.”

“Ah. And?”

“I’m happy report that they are.”

Crowley grunted approvingly. “And what about you, angel. Are you soft?”

“I—-well, I suppose that depends on what you mean. The majority of me is still rather soft, I’m afraid.”

“Glad to hear it. I like the majority of you being that way. But tell me, Angel. Is there any part of you that isn’t currently soft?”

“Well, I suppose there is…one…notable part that is currently very…un-soft.”

“Mmmm…That’s good angel. I’m very un-soft as well.”

“Well, my dear, I believe that generally describes the state of your whole form.”

“Ha,” rasped Crowley. “I s’pose that’s true. But I’m speaking very specifically right now about my member. Oof, it’s very hard, angel. You make me so very hard.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, feeling his own member twitch at the thought of it. He brought his hand down and began to massage himself gently over his cotton underwear. 

“Is that too much, Angel?”

“No, my dear.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stop now.”

The thought of Crowley stopping now, just as things were starting to get hot, made Aziraphale panic a little. 

“Please don’t my dear. Don’t stop. I want you to…erm…”

“What, angel?”

“I want you to come, Crowley.”

“MMfffnnn” Crowley groaned. “Much more talk like that and you’ll get your wish.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked interestedly, still massaging himself over his cotton underwear. 

“Oh, shit, yeah. I’m so achingly hard right now, I have to touch it. FF—It feels so good, thinking of you, stroking my throbbing dick, uhhh.” Crowley’s breath was ragged. “Are you..fuu..are you touching yourself?”

“I am.”

“Nngk.”

“Though, it’s through my clothes, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, well that can’t be as satisfying can it? Will you…will you touch yourself…skin to skin?”

“Certainly,” Aziraphale replied eagerly, and shifted his position so that he could take his erection completely out of his underwear, letting it fall against his abdomen. He encircled himself with his free hand and slowly pumped up and down.

“Are you touching yourself Aziraphale?”

“I am.”

“Nngk, and, ahh, and how do you feel?”

“Turgid, my dear. Positively turgid.”

“Ohh, g—good. That’s good.”

“And are you still touching yourself, Crowley?”

“I never stopped.”

“And…ah…what are you thinking about?”

“What I’d do to you if we were together right now?”

“Oh! And..mmm. and what would you do?”

“Oh, Fuck, Angel. I’d bend you over, just over a chair, pull your scratchy trousers and cotton underwear down, and grab that ass.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, his hand working steadily faster on his shaft.

“I’d bite the muscle of your ass, and lick it, then I’d stick my tongue in you. Oh Sh—Fu—I’d fucking tongue you. Really get you wet. Feel you clench, as I squeeze your thighs with my hands, letting my tongue work in you as deep as it would go.”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale said back, continuing to pump and letting pleasure build up. 

“And then…oh Aziraphale… and then I’d slide a finger inside of you. Just one, feel how tight you were, and work in you until you were loose enough to let me slide in a second then a third,” Crowley’s voice then changed, becoming a little more urgent, “Oh, fuck, Aziraphale, Angel, I want to fuck you right now, shit.”

“I’d like that too, Crowley,” Aziraphale rasped, pumping himself faster and faster, letting his toes curl and breath become more ragged. 

“And then…oh shit…once I knew you were wide enough for me….mmm..I…I’d slide myssssself…oof. I’d slide my rock hard dick inside of you. Slow at first…fuck…just ssssso steady and sssslow. But f-f-fuck you feel so good, so tight, I’d start to fuck you. Oh Angel, I’d fuck you so hard, I’d spread your ass apart as wide as it would….ohh oh…go…”

Aziraphale could hear that Crowley was panting erratically now, and Aziraphale shut his eyes, imagining everything Crowley was saying. He being bent over, feeling Crowley work inside of him, thrusting faster and faster. The thought was electrifying, and he felt his pleasure plateau into a familiar place, while his hand pumped faster and faster, and he groaned.

“Oh Aziraphale, Angel. I want you so much. I want to be inside you, let you feel how…fuck..fucking h-hard I am. I’d fuck you deeper, and deeper and deep… ah..ah. dee…dee..Oh Shit AZZssira…I’m com…fuuu” Crowley became unintelligible as he moaned and grunted sounds of pleasure through the telephone. 

The thought of Crowley coming, of Crowley pounding him from behind, caused Aziraphale to orgasm as well, and white spurts of come came shooting out, soiling his trousers and waistcoat as his hips bucked in waves of pleasure.

…

Crowley blinked his eyes open, taking note of the mess he made. He was surprised at how much he came, considering the fact that he had already masturbated several times that day. 

He heard Aziraphale grunt through the phone, and smiled as he realized the angel had hit his climax.

“That’sss it,” Crowley purred, trying to mask out how of breath he was. “That’s a good angel.”

“Oh, Crowley, Aziraphale rasped after a few moments. “Crowley I love you.”

“I love you too, Angel. Are you…did you?”

“Yes, my dear, I did. And…eh..well it sounded like you…”

“Oh, I did,” Crowley said. 

“Glad to hear it.”

“Mmm,” Crowley said, and he miracled the mess away.

Both of them panted into the phone for some time. Crowley felt sated…perhaps the most sated since leaving England. But a wave of doubt crossed his mind. 

“Thank you Angel.

“I’m afraid I didn’t actually do much.”

“Oh but you did…you let me…Aziraphale, tell me, was that too far?”

“Too far?”

“I just…I don’t want…”

“No, my dear. I confess I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea when we started, but I am glad we did it.”

“And…so…we can do it again?”

“I rather hope we do.”

Crowley sighed relived. 

“I hope we do as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I am really excited for the next few chapters, as I really have fun writing dirty-talking Crowley. Do let me know what you think in the comments :)
> 
> Also I am still continuing the story (so long as people enjoy it) but I will be busy with work for the next few months, so here's my plan. I have decided to try and update this once a week, every Tuesday. I hope this will be alright for you all! 
> 
> So...if you don't see me update on Tuesdays, feel free to message/harass me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is in LA. Aziraphale starts to feel a little lonely.

Aziraphale and Crowley remained in mostly silence for the remainder of the phone call. Aziraphale was feeling mostly content, but he did long for Crowley, to feel his arms wrapped about him, the demon’s hot breath tickling his neck and sharp nose digging into his blonde curls. 

“Angel?” Crowley said after a while. “Can I ask you something.”

“Of course my dear.”

“Do you mind if I…sleep overnight? Or small naps during the day.”

Aziraphale was surprised at this. He had thought the demon was already doing that.

“Not at all my dear. Why even ask?”

“Well…you had said not to sleep the whole time.”

“Ah! Yes, well, I meant the entirety of the six months, not, you know, a little here and there.”

Crowley yawned in response. “That’s good Angel, because I think I’d very much like to take a nap.”

Aziraphale smiled at this, imagining Crowley sprawled out over the bed, his red hair mess and jaw open while his chest heaved with deep breath. 

“Of course, love. You should get some rest.”

“Mmm ‘kay,” Crowley replied drowsily. “G’nite then.”

“Goodnight, my dear. I love you.”

“Love you t—oh Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you calling me next week or am I calling you?”

“Perhaps you should call? Trade off?”

“‘Kay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Crowley.”

Aziraphale sighed as he hung up the phone. He missed Crowley, right down to the marrow of his corporeal form. 

“This is for the best,” he reminded himself, and he looked around for something to distract him. He looked at the books of prophesy, and suddenly felt very, very disinterested. Perhaps he had been spending too long trying to understand them, he thought to himself. 

He then stood up, and decided right then to take a few days off from the book. Perhaps he’d visit some of his favorite restaurants, take a little stroll through the park, go to a museum, read…well, anything else. 

He thus walked to the front of his store, flipped the sign to ‘Closed’, grabbed his coat, and left. 

…

It had been four days since their last phone call, and a whole 48 hours since Crowley arrived in Los Angeles, and the demon absolutely loved it. There were lots of delicious and wicked things to distract himself with, many minor inconveniences, and millions people who needed a gentle reminder that they had a choice to do what they really wanted to do. 

His first stop was a studio tour. He selected this studio in particular because it was the one that produced a television show that killed off a favorite character of his two seasons ago. He was really pissed off when this happened, and at the time vowed to make somebody pay. 

Now was his chance to get his vengeance.

He slipped away quietly from the tour guide, found the studio lots that were filming the television show, and made sure that every single electric cable was switched from American outlets to European. It would take days to sort that mess out, he snorted to himself, and they would have to postpone shooting. Plus, it would be hard to place the blame on one person, so perhaps the whole thing would cause enough of a ruckus to delay the show for much longer. He then made sure to switch the coffee in the writer’s room to all decaf, and all the name brand snacks to generic. 

‘That’ll teach them,’ he snickered to himself as he sauntered back to the tour group. 

After the tour, Crowley went to a trendy bar, where a man was falsely posing as a producer to try and get young actresses phone numbers. Crowley watched him for several hours—many of the women scoffed and walked away, but a few who seemed particularly naive and desperate to break into the scene did give him their numbers. 

Later, Crowley surmised, this man would probably try and convince them to send him nude pictures, which would then be circulated online. 

Crowley just couldn’t let that happen, so he followed the man, and struck up a conversation with him, which devolved into crude comments on women’s bodies. It wasn't really the kind of thing he was into, but Crowley had the man distracted. He then did a little demonic miracle and changed every phone number listed in the man’s phone to the number of the man’s mother. That way, when the man texted Kendra or Jasmine or some other unsuspecting young woman asking for their nude photographs, mother dearest would receive the text instead, resulting in what would probably be a very awkward conversation. 

The freeway system was another place where Crowley found he could make minor inconveniences for everyone involved. The freeways were a spaghetti bowl of interstates and intersections, and everyone driving on them seemed incredibly mad without demonic intervention. He thus decided one evening to make every exit around Downtown LA suddenly under construction, forcing drivers to find alternate routes, cut one another off, and generally sit in traffic for up to three hours longer than they had originally intended. 

Of course, Crowley had forgotten that the loft in which he was staying was also in Downtown LA, and he was forced to drive a long way around, adding an hour and a half to his drive home. 

…

For several days, Aziraphale successfully avoided thinking about the book. He took several walks, he visited some of his favorite restaurants, and reread two old favorite classics. He even performed a few minor miracles--a child almost lost their ice cream when they tripped, but it remained in its cone, a messenger fell of their velocipede, and Crowley made sure that they didn't land on their ankle as they fell. 

But even when keeping himself occupied, his mind (no longer distracted by books of prophesy) went to Crowley. It made him miss the demon more than he had thought possible. 

Aziraphale took to carrying a small notebook with him so that he could write down things he would wish to tell Crowley as they happened in the moment--things such as: “I saw a plant in a window and I thought of you. I wonder if your plants are doing well—should I perhaps visit them for you?”; and “A new Italian restaurant opened. Perhaps we can go there together when you come back?”; and “I thought I saw you in St. James’ today, but it turned out it was a woman with red hair. She was wearing a very fetching leather jacket, however, and I do think it would look very becoming on you my dear. I perhaps should have asked her where she purchased it.”

Before long, the notes became a rather involved letter, pouring over several pages. 

One evening, still a couple of days before Crowley was to call, he found himself unable to focus on any of his usual favorite books. Mystery seemed tedious, Romance was frustrating, Action Adventure seemed a bit overwhelming. He was still unready to go back to the books of prophesy, and the angel felt, well….bored. 

It was a somewhat unusual sensation for him.

He thus absentmindedly sorted through some stacks in his back room, when he then came upon the pile of magazines from Madam Tracy. He lifted an eyebrow, and glanced around the room (as though to make sure no one was there watching). He then flipped open the one that rested on top—a Playgirl—and inhaled a little sharply as he saw the first few pages of male pinups flexing their muscles and looking rakishly into the camera. There was an article with the headline, “Do Blondes Really Have More Fun,” and Aziraphale chuckled to himself, wondering what Crowley would have to say about that. 

The angel flipped through the remaining pages, his eyes intently darting over different men’s bodies, articles on sex and fantasy. Aziraphale was not turned on by the men in the photographs—humans had never really sparked his interest in that way—but it did make his mind wander to Crowley. There was an article about “doing it on a desk.” Could they ‘do it on a desk’? Aziraphale wondered. Would he enjoy it? Would Crowley?

He looked at the next magazine in the stack. It was one of the multiple BDSM periodicals that Madam Tracy had given Aziraphale. He had read through the articles before, but was so overwhelmed by everything at the time, that he hadn’t really thought much more about BDSM specifically. He opened it, saw many shocking images of humans tied up with gags in their mouths, limbs bound in every direction, holes filled with various implements.

One photograph stood out to Aziraphale in particular—perhaps this is because it was of a redhead, and so he studied it further. The human’s arms and legs were tied with ropes to a bed. They had a blindfold on, but their mouth was exposed and their jaw open in pleasure. Their legs were spread apart widely, and another figure was penetrating them with a dildo. 

Aziraphale bit his lip as his mind wandered. Would this be something he and Crowley should try?

He picked up the magazine, moved to the couch to sit down, and looked at the magazine closer. The ropes were pulled tightly against the human’s skin, leaving red marks. It couldn’t have been very comfortable, yet the human was clearly very much enjoying what was happening. Aziraphale closed his eyes and thought about Crowley tied up like that, naked, blindfolded, his erection bobbing helplessly in the air. 

Suddenly there was a twinge in his groin as blood began to travel to his member. Aziraphale’s eyes shot open and he gasped, feeling suddenly very flushed. He licked his lips and looked down, noticing that he was slightly stiff. He let his tongue continue to travel over his lips, his breath growing heavy, as he rubbed his hand over the hardness. 

“Oh,” he moaned softly at the feeling of his palm against his clothed shaft, feeling the heat of arousal take over his body. He suddenly wanted to be unhindered by clothes, and so he undressed, more hastily than usual, but still careful to fold along the seams and place them in a chair. When he was completely naked—with the exception of his socks and sock garters—he sat back down on the couch, closed his eyes, and took his erection back into his hand. 

He imagined Crowley again, still tied up like the human in the photograph. On the pages of the magazine people used riding crops and whips and the like to leave marks on their partners, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure that such punishment was his style. 

Rather, he wanted to praise Crowley. Admire the lines of his naked body. Taste him all over. He imagined Crowley’s hips bucking underneath his touch. He imagined pouring compliments over the demon, telling him how beautiful he was, how good, how kind. He imagined Crowley’s whine, being forced to listen to the angel's adoration. He also imagined admiring the demon’s shaft, delicately stroking it with one light finger, tasting the silky skin and the precum, until Crowley writhed underneath him. 

Aziraphale’s erection was incredibly hard by now, his own precum pouring out of him as pleasure built up. He felt as though if he quickened his pace, he might climax—but he wasn’t ready. He still had more to imagine. 

Specifically, he imagined Crowley breaking free of his restraints, and throwing Aziraphale against the bed, telling the angel—no, yelling at the angel—about how he wasn’t nice, and thrusting himself inside of Aziraphale just to prove it. 

Aziraphale came at the thought of Crowley penetrating him, and his own hips thrust upward over and over again as his spendings created a mess in his lap and on his thighs. 

“Oh…oh Crowley,” he moaned with a shiver before fluttering his eyes open and looking down at the mess.

He thought about miracling it away, but decided that he had better clean it up the old-fashioned way—finding a rag that he wet with water, cleaning the stickiness off of his skin. 

Once he was clean, he (still naked) wrote a little more down in his notebook: 

“Crowley, my dear, I hope you don’t mind, but I did pleasure myself to the thought of you today. Specifically, to the thought of you in ropes. I then thought of you breaking free and showing me what a demon you are, and it was rather splendid. Do you think we might try something like that? At some point?”

Aziraphale sighed, and though he felt less restless, he was still lonely. He missed Crowley a great deal, but their phone call was still a few days away. After getting dressed, he looked back at the pile of books of prophesy, suddenly feeling renewed clarity and desire to look over them again. 

At least these would keep him occupied. 

…

Crowley was still having an amazing time in Los Angeles. He had explored beyond the confines of the city, visiting Hollywood, Burbank, Santa Monica. Everyone, it seemed to him, had an agenda—an agenda that was easily disrupted, or called into question. Crowley was able to draw out confessions from people who claimed to have “a lot of things in the works”; he put the air out of tires of expensive cars; people who tipped their waiter poorly would suddenly find that their credit card was stolen by an untraceable thief. There was so much vanity, so much desire, so many dreams and envies that Crowley felt he could live here forever, with work always to be done. 

Best of all, there were surprisingly few demons (few angels as well, he also realized). It seemed that the inconveniences of living in Southern California were enough to dissuade occult forces from spending any significant time there, leaving humans to fend for themselves against one another. 

And against Crowley. 

Crowley was up in his loft on the day he and Aziraphale were to talk, staring dreamily at the small, leafy plant he had recently purchased at the small farmer’s market. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone buzzed. He absentmindedly looked at it, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw it was a message from Aziraphale. 

It wasn’t that Crowley had forgotten it was his turn to call Aziraphale, and that this was the day to do it. It’s just that Crowley was, for lack of a better term, busy. He hadn’t returned home until the early hours of the morning, and took a nap, only to wake up in the late afternoon. He was planning on calling Aziraphale, as soon as he finished his coffee, but the plant sitting by the window overlooking the view of the 1930’s architecture across the way distracted the demon. 

He had actually began to think about his future, what he wanted to do—not just that day, but in general. He wasn’t sure he wanted to remain in Los Angeles for eternity, but for now it was perfect, and he felt a sort of contentment, and he was enjoying the feeling. 

To Crowley’s disappointment, the message did not contain any dick pics. It did, however, contain a picture of a rather long letter spread over several pictures, a letter that would have taken ages to type out via text. Crowley zoomed in on the text—it was slightly blurry but still legible:

“My Dear Crowley,

I have decided to keep a small log of thoughts I have about you—things I wish to tell you—and I will perhaps show it to you when we speak again. Perhaps this is a foolish notion, but well, we shall see. 

I took a walk in St. James’ today, passed by our old bench, and there was a couple lounging on it. They were young, no more than twenty, and they were wrapped around one another incredibly tightly. It made me smile, and a little sad, thinking of you of course.” 

The letter continued, but in a different color font:

“Today, I saw a plant in a window and thought of you I wonder if your plants are doing well—should I perhaps visit them for you? Let me know, my dear—I wouldn’t want you to arrive and have them all wilted and browned. 

I went to my favorite sushi place today, and saw that next to it a new Italian restaurant opened. Perhaps we can go there together when you come back?”

The font changed color again:

“I thought I saw you in St. James’ today, but it turned out it was a woman with red hair. She was wearing a very fetching leather jacket, however, and I do think it would look very becoming on you my dear. I perhaps should have asked her where she purchased it.

Crowley, my dear, I hope you don’t mind, but I did pleasure myself to the thought of you today. Specifically, to the thought of you in ropes. I then thought of you breaking free and showing me what a demon you are, and it was rather splendid. Do you think we might try something like that? At some point?”

Crowley’s eyebrow raised at this. ‘Yeah…I think we might,’ he thought to himself as he licked his lips, envisioning himself him bondage, of the angel standing over him, and of Aziraphale pleasuring himself. His heart raced and he felt himself begin to salivate at the thought, but the letter was not quite over, so he continued reading.

“Well tomorrow is the day we speak again. I daresay this week has moved by rather slowly—though it was not unpleasant. I do miss you a great deal, my dear, and very much look forward to our chat.

With all my love,  
Aziraphale”

Crowley swallowed. ‘He’s lonely,’ Crowley thought to himself, feeling a twinge of sadness for the angel. Crowley knew how it felt to be lonely. Loneliness and Crowley had long been bedfellows-- but this week—the demon hadn't felt that way. Crowley looked at the time—it was almost midnight in England, he realized. ‘I'm such a fucking dumbass,’ he muttered to himself, hoping that Aziraphale would still be up, still answer the phone when he called. 

He jammed his fingers on the phone’s screen to call Aziraphale, and pressed the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times, and just as Crowley began cursing through his teeth, a bright voice answered the phone. 

“Oh Crowley, my dear, you called!” He sounded excited.

“Angel, Aziraphale, I am so sorry I didn’t call sooner. I know, I know it’s my turn to call, it’s my fault—I just got distracted.”

“No need to apologize, Crowley. Though if I hadn’t heard from you by tomorrow, I would have utilized the..what’s the word? App?”

“Yeah, app,” Crowley said, his heart still racing at the thought of almost missing his phone date. “But really, I am really sorry.”

“It’s alright Crowley, I am sure you are,” there was a little pause. “Busy,” the word came out softer, just above a whisper. 

“I am—er, I mean, a litt—look, it’s no excuse,” Crowley said feeling guilty. “Please let me…let me make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you like, you name it.”

“Now, now, my dear, I really do think you are being too hard on yourself. It isn’t even midnight yet.”

“Please, Aziraphale.”

“Well,” there was a pause. Crowley’s heart was racing in anticipation, and finally the angelic voice cooed through the phone: “Did you read my letter?”

“I did,” Crowley said quickly. 

“Well…did you…I mean,” Aziraphale was panting a little. “Did you see the part about the eh…ropes?”

Crowley grinned. “I did,” he said, his voice suddenly deep and sensual. 

“Well then maybe….maybe we could try that? Sometime? When we see each other again... if you are up for it, of course.”

“You wicked cherub,” Crowley rasped into the phone. “Yeah, I’d be up for it.”

“Well then, it’s settled,” Azirphale said resolutely. 

“Is it, Angel? I mean, that’s months away…there must be something I can do for you…in the meantime?”

…..

Aziraphale considered this. Crowley didn’t really have to do anything. Crowley had called, and sure Aziraphale was perhaps a little disappointed that they hadn’t talked sooner (and was trying very hard not to speculate about what the demon was up to) but he didn’t feel as though there was any breach of trust. 

Still, Crowley was adamant on making ‘it’ up to the angel. So, Aziraphale brainstormed for something Crowley could easily give, that Crowley wanted to give. 

Suddenly, and idea popped into his head. 

“Well, Crowley. During our last conversation, you had mentioned the Reign of Terror. Do you recall?”

“I do,” Crowley said. 

“Well…you said you had thought about me in my French attire, so I was wondering if you might, perhaps, tell that story?”

“Oh….Angel,” Aziraphale could hear Crowley exhale and it sounded like a rough breeze blowing into the receiver. “Of course I will tell you that story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I know this was not as smutty as other chapters, but hopefully next week's will make up for it. Comments are always appreciated, of course. 
> 
> I really want to explore Crowley's demonic activity, which of course is sillier than truly harmful, but I also enjoy the thought of him going after people partaking in predatory behavior, so there may be more of that. 
> 
> I'm also still working on my historical piece. I've done a bit of research and it's been rather difficult to write both at the same time, but I'm hoping to get that one done in the next week or so.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tells Aziraphale what he did in France after he rescued the angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Crowley gets kinky with shoes. If this isn't your idea of fun, skip down to the last section. 
> 
> Sorry it's a little shorter this week, but I hope the content makes up for it. I'm not positive but this may be the kinkiest thing I've written for this story yet.

Crowley was grinning devilishly, and he reclined on a sleek leather sofa in the living room area of his loft. 

“Well,” he began, “do you remember where I found you?”

“Yes, I’m..I’m afraid I do,” Aziraphale said sheepishly. “It was a little embarrassing, I have to confess.”

“It bloody well should have been embarrassing, Angel, getting locked up all for trying to find something to nibble. Tsk tsk.”

“Well, but the crepes really were divine,” Azirphale said defensively. Crowley let out a breathy laugh. 

“Of course they were. Well, anyways, I watched them arrest you, you know?”

“You…did?” Aziraphale asked. “And you didn’t stop them?!”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if it was part of your divine plan. Maybe you wanted to be imprisoned! Maybe you were going to bless someone there. I didn't know. At any rate, I followed you, quietly, wanting to watch what you did.”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale said in response. “And you just let them throw me into that dirty cell, did you?”

“Oh, I did,” Crowley replied with a mischievous tone. “And you looked gorgeous.”

“I—oh!” Aziraphale gasped, and Crowley could practically hear the blush he was sure was creeping into Aziraphale’s cheeks. 

“So gorgeous, angel. And the cell—it’s dark, dirty walls, the dirty floor, all made your…shall I say celestial beauty…stand out even more.”

“Oh..” murmured Aziraphale. Crowley’s heart began to race as he continued, and his hand wandered down to his lap. He wasn’t hard…yet…but he hoped that very soon he would be. 

“Your clothes were, of course, absolutely ridiculous,” Crowley teased. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale defensively cried. “They weren’t ridiculous, they were…high quality.”

“Oh, I know angel. And I loved looking at you in them…the fine brocades, the delicate lace, those heels…mmmph, you looked absolutely delicious…almost…sinful…”

Crowley let the last word hang on the air, waiting to see how Aziraphale would respond. 

“Sinful, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked meekly. 

“Oh yessss, angel,” Crowley hissed. “Those clothes were decadent, and on you, all I could think about was…if you indulged in such fine attire, what else might you indulge in?”

“Ohh,” Aziraphale gasped. 

Crowley continued. “So I watched you, admiring your figure. Looking at what those heels did to your ass as you paced around the cell. After some time, I thought about dirtying those clothes right there, us rolling around on the floor as I ripped the lace and cast aside the brocade, finding out if your decadent tastes extended to the things you wore underneath.”

“Ahh,” Aziraphale said breathily. 

“I confess, the sight did make me a little hard,” Crowley said, feeling himself getting hard at that very moment. “But I didn’t do anything about it right then—although how delicious it would have been to take myself out right there, stroke my dick watching you fret about in that dark cell while I hid out of sight.”

“Well…that would have been…very scandalous, my dear," Aziraphale said.

“It would have been, though that's not what stopped me. What stopped me was that I didn't know why you were there, what you were going to do. I was beginning to suspect that you hadn't actually meant to get caught, and that you would need rescuing, so I fought my urge. Plus, I couldn’t very well have you catching me. Even though, well, that may have been fun too.” Crowley licked his lips at that thought, letting himself imagine Aziraphale walking in on him as he stroked himself. 'That may be something we have to try,' he thought, as his dick became harder.

“Oh, well,” Aziraphale said bashfully, and he cleared his throat. “And so you were there the whole time?”

“I was. Well, I may have wandered around and scared most of the guards out of consciousness, but for the most part I was there, watching you. I thought for sure you would spot me, several times, though I suppose your anxiety prevented you from sensing my presence. I was, after all, very small.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale said.

“I was rather surprised you didn’t escape that way. Shrink yourself down, you know?”

“Well, like I said, I had received a strongly worded note from Gabriel, and so I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Ahh,” Crowley said. “Well, at any rate, you remember most of the rest of the story I presume. My freezing time, you changing your clothes, us going to crepes.”

“I do!” Aziraphale squealed. 

“Well, what you don’t know is what I did afterwards.”

“What…what did you do afterwards?”

“Well, after crepes we said goodbye, and you took off for London. I decided to go back to your prison cell. Well, no, actually, first I stopped by the guillotine”

“You…did?”

“I wondered if I might find some of your clothes…unsullied with human blood, that is.”

“Oh! And did you?”

“Well, I almost didn’t. I mean I found your clothes, but they were….well, at any rate, I didn’t much fancy making them clean after how they looked. But…one of your shoes was totally pristine. So…I took it.”

“You did?” Aziraphale asked.

“I did. Then I went back to the prison cell, making sure that all the guards were totally unconscious (and perhaps doing other things to the guards who threw you in there..but that’s another story).”

“I see.”

“And that’s…when things got interesting.”

…

Aziraphale’s heart was racing in anticipation for the next part of the story. He was sitting on his couch, his free hand absentmindedly rubbing his thigh, feeling the wool fabric scratch against the palm of his hand.

“In..uh…in what way were they interesting, my dear?” He asked, licking his lips. 

“Well…first I felt the shoe, dragging my finger over the soft satin, the smooth buckle. I blew on it a little to ensure that all traces of the executioner were off of it, and that the only thing that remained there…were traces of you.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped. He wasn’t entirely sure where this was going, but it did seem rather intimate, the thought of Crowley and his shoe. (He did rather like those shoes, and was sad when he had to let them go).

“Then, I decided to try it on..but to my disappointment, it was too small. So, I brought the shoe up to my face, rubbing it against my cheek, and moaning your name.”

Aziraphale let out a soft gasp, and he felt a tingling sensation in his groin. He allowed his free hand to wander over the spot, caressing the hardness growing in his trousers.

“I began to touch myself, first over my clothes and then…there was a pause, and Aziraphale swore he could hear a zipper on the other end of the line. “And then I decided to take my hard cock out, so that I could stroke freely.”

Aziraphale shuddered at the image, and began to gyrate his hips a little more, his hand rubbing (still over the trousers) against his erection.

“I kissed the shoe. Licked it. Buried my face as deep inside of it as I could get,” Crowley continued, the demon’s words low and sultry. 

“And, were you…stroking yourself?” Aziraphale asked. 

“I was. It made me so hard,” Crowley rasped.

“Mmmmph,” Aziraphale groaned, feeling his cock twinge with want. He rubbed himself faster, feeling the heat build, but he was so caught up in Crowley’s story that he had not thought to take his shaft out of his own trousers.

“And then,” Crowley said, “I decided to place it on the ground, and I started to fuck it.”

“You…did?” Crowley asked, trying to imagine the scene. “H--how?”

“It was difficult, but I managed. First, I started on all fours and had to lower my hips down and adjust my hands, so that one leg was straight behind me, and one hand held the shoe in place, and I thrust into it.”

The image flashed through Aziraphale’s mind, and he moaned. 

“So I fucked your heel, thrusting into it as deep as I could, feeling the satin interior rub against my cock. But as fun as that was, it wasn’t giving me quite the touch I craved. So I sat up on my knees, and held the shoe in my hand and moved it up and down my shaft, and I watched as my cock slid in and out. And that felt...oh that felt...and looked...wonderful.”

“Oh…oh my dear…” Aziraphale panted, his own hand still rubbing over his tented trousers. 

“And…and then…nngk,” Crowley paused for a moment before going on. “And then, I wanted more. So next I pulled down my breeches, first to my knees, but then, I decided to get undressed from the waist down entirely.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked in between raspy breaths. 

“Mmm, and then I laid down onto the filthy floor of the cell, on my back. I lifted my knees, spread my ass as far as I could, and started to fuck myself with your shoe.”

“You…you..” Aziraphale was stammering, his mind overwhelmed at the thought, but a small concern flashed through his mind. “You didn’t…prepare yourself?”

“Ah…well…there may have been some lubricant…and a couple of fingers first,” Crowley said. “But that’s not the point. The point is…I fucked my ass with your satiny heel, while I stroked my throbbing cock, right where you had stood only several hours earlier.”

Aziraphale let out a lusty moan at the thought of Crowley, knees in the air, open and welcoming the high-heel like it was a phallus and pumping himself into a frenzy. It brought the ardor building up inside of him to the threshold, though he didn’t want to pause or slow down, so he continued to rub himself over his trousers. 

“And did you, oh, oh my dear, did you…climax?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Oh fuck angel, fu…I did. I fucked myself so hard, so fast with your heel. I got as deep as I could until I was writhing on the ground like the serpent I am. I pumped myself faster and faster as I shoved your shoe inside me harder and harder, until finally....oh fu...finally..I was moaning your name as....oh shit...as cum squirted out of me, landing all over my chest.

“Oh, oh my dear, oh!” Aziraphale moaned at the thought, and he began to orgasm himself, groaning through the whole event as his creamy spendings seeped through his wool trousers, causing a wet spot to appear in his groin. His hips rutted upwards against his palm, which clumsily clutched at his erection through his trousers, and he called out Crowley’s name. 

“Yesss, yess, yess angel, oh fuck yess,” Crowley hissed through the phone, followed by some throaty moans, which Aziraphale took to mean that the demon was coming. The thought made him shiver and buck once more. 

…

After Crowley’s orgasm died down, he cleared his throat. “Well…” he said after a few moments. “Was that…how was that?”

“That was…good, dearest,” Aziraphale said shakily through the phone. "Although...oh dear."

“What?” Crowley replied concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Well...I seem to have soiled my trousers."

Crowley laughed. "Didn't get them off in time?"

"Afraid not," Aziraphale replied.

"Ahh, well, it happens. Just miracle it away. Or...you know...wash it like humans."

"Hmm," Aziraphale replied. 

The two sat in silence for a few moments, Crowley sinking lower into his couch, and listening as Aziraphale breathed softly into the phone. It was nice, just hearing him slowly inhale and exhale. It began to lull him into a sense of serenity.

“Crowley was that…true?” Aziraphale asked after a bit, and Crowley blinked his eyes open.

The demon laughed softly. “Would it be bad if it were?”

“Well…” Aziraphale said, “I don’t know if it would be bad, only it does seem…somewhat far fetched.”

“Oh does it?” Crowley scoffed teasingly. “I’m a demon, Aziraphale, nothing is too far fetched.”

“Are you….sure?”

“Ahh, well, maybe some of it was exaggerated,” Crowley confessed. “But…I’d rather like you to think that it happened exactly that way, wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose I would,” Aziraphale said. 

“Alright, then,” Crowley replied. “It happened exactly like that.”

Aziraphale giggled a little. 

…

The two of them talked for a little while longer—mostly expressing how much they missed one another and vaguely mentioning what they had been up to. When Aziraphale hung up the phone, he suddenly felt very lonely. It occurred to him that in the years when he and Crowley hadn’t seen one another, Aziraphale did try and make some human friends. 

Perhaps, he thought to himself, I should see what Madam Tracy is up to. In the morning I suppose I ought to give her a call. At least…thank her for the magazines.

…

A few days later, Crowley sat in a bar a few blocks away from his loft. It was a nice bar…part of a large building that had multiple themed areas. This particular place was darkly lit, with booths on either end. Behind the bar was some kind of altar that looked like it came from an old church. The bar itself was not terribly crowded…perhaps because it was a weeknight. No one was really behaving in any particular way that warranted demonic intervention, so he leaned against the bar, sipping his drink. 

He was a little bored, he had to admit. The initial excitement he had for Los Angeles was fading. He was a little tired of causing traffic mishaps (as they often resulted in him getting stuck in them); the bar scene (as much of it as he’d seen at any rate) was interesting, and there were plenty of establishments to explore, but he was getting tired of his usual games. 

So, he sat at the bar, trying to decide what to do next. He thought about trying to get into the film industry, thinking he could probably do a fair amount of mischief there. But something about people in that industry was very exhausting—many of them were very fake. 

He briefly considered going into the porn industry, but he wasn’t sure if that would actually be for him. He maybe would have enjoyed watching people having sex, and could probably invent some new kinks, but being around sex would probably just remind him of Aziraphale, and what he was missing. 

There was always government, but that had never really been his forte, especially after he failed at spreading foment during King Arthur’s reign. 

So, Crowley pondered what to do next. Surely there was something he might do, some fun scheme to keep himself occupied. 

He sipped his drink—an old fashioned—and continued to brainstorm. 

Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked down at the hand, and up at its owner, and saw a pair of round bespectacled eyes staring back at him. 

His brow furrowed for a moment, and then recognition hit him. 

“Book girl!” he exclaimed, and he eyed her up and down. She was wearing a long dark dress, with long lacy sleeves, her hair down. Her lips turned up slightly. 

“Yes, I thought it was you,” she said. “You…hit me with your car.” 

Crowley scoffed. “I did not. You hit me.”

“Yes, well,” she continued. “At any rate it's…well it’s a surprise to see you, if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“I could say the same,” Crowley replied, returning to his drink. 

“I—-I’m Anathema,” she said. “You know, I don’t think we actually exchanged names during the whole thing. Or…if we did…I seem to have forgotten.”

“Crowley. Anthony Crowley,” the demon replied. 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally learn your name,” she said. Crowley lifted an eyebrow and looked at her again, this time his own lips curling up into a slight smile.

“Likewise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think (especially if you want to hear more about a high heel fetish).


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets up with Madam Tracy, while Anathema introduces Crowley to something fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO SMUT this chapter (will try to get some in next chapter). I'm sorry, you pervs, but I do hope you like some of the twists!

It was 5 am in London, and Aziraphale was awake and waiting patiently by the door. It was usual for him to be awake at this time, though normally he would not be expecting humans to come knocking at so early an hour.

Aziraphale had spoken to Madam Tracy (now, just Tracy, as she was a retired Madam) a few days ago, and he was up before dawn because he was going to assist Tracy and Shadwell as they looked at a few homes (or bungalows, as Tracy called them) for sale in the countryside. A few days earlier, he had stopped by to thank her for the magazines and hear her opinions on the situation with Crowley, but Shadwell had been there and their conversation couldn’t get as…explicit or specific…as Aziraphale might have hoped. That’s when she announced that the two of them were moving out of London. 

Aziraphale was only too happy to offer his services, to make sure that they found a blessed place for a good deal (something not…spooky…), and Tracy welcomed his assistance and company.

There was a knock on his bookshop door, and Shadwell was there, looking at Aziraphale suspiciously. Shadwell made clear the other day that still didn’t trust Aziraphale, still thought he was some kind of demon (albeit, one that was perhaps not wholly evil). Shadwell knew Aziraphale wasn’t a witch, as Aziraphale told him several times that he only had two nipples, and that had seemed to somewhat calm the former witchfinder somewhat, though not completely. More to the point, Shadwell’s magical finger (or, the finger he thought was magical) stopped working after Satan was sent away, or so he said. Aziraphale thought about telling him that he had no magical powers then or now, but decided to keep that to himself.

Retired Madam Tracy was behind the wheel of a modest sedan, rented for the occasion. Without asking, Aziraphale took his place up front in the passenger seat, to which Shadwell rolled his eyes, and he reluctantly climbed in the back. 

“Now then!” Aziraphale said excitedly. “Where are we going?”

…

“I’ve been wanting to ask you, since the whole…event…” Anathema said. “What are you, exactly? You and your husband?”

Crowley nearly spit out his drink. “We aren’t married,” he said quickly. 

“Oh…boyfriend then. What are you?”

Crowley tilted his head. He supposed Aziraphale was his boyfriend, though the word seemed tawdry. “What d’you mean what are we?”

“Well,” she said, “I don’t think you're human. Your auras are…confusing. I noticed it the night of my accident but thought I had hit my head and wasn't seeing straight, but I noticed it again when we saved the world, and I see it again now. It’s almost….” she bit her lip, but before she could continue, a young blonde woman wearing a trench coat, heavy makeup, and well-styled hair ran up to her and grabbed her arm, kissing her on the cheek. 

“An, I have to go to the theater. Your name’s on the list, though, so you can just stop by when you’re done,” the woman said, turning her gaze over to Crowley, lifting an eyebrow and eyeing him up and down. 

“Ah, Isabel, this is…Anthony. I met him when I went to England. He helped with the…project…I was working on. Anthony this is Isabel. She’s, well, she produces a burlesque show.”

Isabel stuck out her hand, and Anthony shook it. “A…burlesque show…?” he said, intrigued. 

“It’s happening tonight, down the street, if you want to come watch. We still have a few tickets left for sale.”

Crowley tilted his head, interested. “Perhaps I will,” he said. Isabel smiled, said she had to go or else she would miss the tech run, and left quickly. 

“Well,” Crowley said, amused by the interaction between the two women. There was clearly something there, more than friendship. “Where’s that boyfriend of yours?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

Crowley shut his mouth, and stared blankly ahead. This human was clever. He liked that. 

“So…back to my question…what are you?”

“What do you think I am?” he asked. 

“Well, your aura looks….” she studied him, “well, at first glance it looks almost evil…demonic.” Crowley laughed, and Anathema continued, “But on closer inspection, there’s a sort of softness there as well. And your boyfriend, well, he’s the exact opposite. He looks wholly soft, but there’s also almost…well it’s like he’s….”

“A little bit of a bastard?” Crowley asked, sipping the last of his drink. Anathema smiled. 

“Yes. I suppose that’s it.”

Crowley wondered if he should tell Anathema the truth, and decided it probably wouldn’t hurt anything. If she was scared of him, well, oh well. 

“You pretty much figured it out, book girl,” he said. “I’m a…nice demon. Aziraphale is a bastard angel.”

“Oh…” Anathema nodded. She didn’t run, didn’t look afraid. It was as though Crowley answered the question she already knew to be true. 

“And did we…save the world?”

Crowley sighed. “Look, it’s a long story,” Crowley said with an irritated tone, “and I’d frankly rather go to this burlesque show and not think of that, now.”

“Of course,” she said. “But the theater doesn’t open for another half hour.”

“Well then, perhaps I can tempt you into a drink?” Crowley said, his voice low.

“Not tonight,” Anathema said, suddenly looking at her phone. “I’m driving. Excuse me I…I have to take this,” she said, and walked away.

Crowley laughed. Of course Anathema was immune to his temptings. 

He ordered another drink, sitting at the bar alone for a while, watching as patrons moseyed about. It was rather dull without Anathema—no one interesting to tempt, so he waited quietly, downing his drink, until she came back.

When she returned, she apologized. “Sorry about that. It was….well, never mind,” she said. 

“Your boyfriend?” Crowley said. 

“It was.” She replied matter-of-factly.

“And he’s in England, then?

“Yes,” she said.

“So,” Crowley said, eyeing her with mild interest. “What are you doing in LA?”

“I live here,” Anathema said. “Well, I mean, one of our family houses is in Malibu. My mother is there, and I’m staying there as well…for now.”

“And your boyfriend didn’t come because…”

“He did. For a little while. But I think…there are a few things we have to work out. It’s complicated. But, wow, look at the time. If we leave now, we can get to the theater right as it opens for seating.”

Crowley nodded, and the two of them left the bar.

…

“I’ve arranged some appointments in the South Downs,” Tracy said as they made their way out of London. “Lovely countryside there, and I do fancy being nearer to the sea,” she said. “Shadwell doesn’t seem to mind, do you Mr. Shadwell.”

Shadwell just grumbled in response, and Tracy giggled. 

“The…South Downs….” Aziraphale said, a little weary. He remembered the vacation he and Crowley were to take together.

“Yes….Is everything alright?” Tracy asked. ‘She is good at sensing emotions,’ Aziraphale thought to himself. 

“Yes, rather. I nearly went there myself…recently…only my plans changed….a little.” 

“Ah…” she said, a little hesitantly.

“Don’t you worry, Tracy. We will find you the perfect little bungalow, I am sure of it,” Aziraphale said as cheerfully as he could. He had to focus on the task at hand, helping his human friend find a happy little place for her and her paramour.

…

“Have you been to a burlesque show?” Anathema asked, as they waited in their seats for the show to begin. The theater looked old and decadent—very Art Deco. Some sultry music played for ambience, and the crowd was full of all different sorts of people. Some were clearly nervous—first timers, Crowley thought. Some seemed like they were overly eager. Some looked wealthy, some looked like struggling artists. Some were dressed like lawyers, others in the audience wore lavish costumes. The smell of souls waiting open to temptation was intoxicating. Crowley licked his lips excitedly. 

This was a scene he could get in to. 

“Not in a long time,” Crowley said eventually answering Anathema’s question thinking about his time in Berlin in the 1930’s. The atmosphere was similar, only there were perhaps three times the amount of people in the audience here in LA, and the stage was much, much larger. Something that could accommodate a whole Broadway musical. 

“Well, not everyone enjoys them, but this production is rather good. And I’m not only saying that because I’m friends with the producer. There are some really talented performers.”

Suddenly, the theater went dark, and the MC took the stage. It was a woman, in her 40’s or 50’s, dressed provocatively. She told some bawdy jokes, made references to her rather ample bosom, and after riling up the crowd, introduced the first act. 

The crowd cheered, and the lights on stage went out. Some electronic music started to play and slowly, the stage lights turned back on to reveal a beautiful performer. They were tall—taller than Crowley, and their height was accentuated by some rather impressive stilettos. They wore a gown that shimmered, and did a number of impressive moves, like a ballerina, lifting their leg up high, twirling with the music, and slowly dropping the gown to reveal a matching corset. 

Slowly, tantalizingly, they removed the corset as well, and Crowley licked his lips at the scene. It’s not that he was turned on by the performer, as beautiful as they were. No…it was the whole production that made him completely transfixed. The tease, the temptation, the hunger of the crowd to see more revealed. 

The corset finally came off, and so did another small piece of cloth that had been covering their hips, revealing a matching, shimmery thong that was covering a rather impressive bulge as the finale of the number. Crowley’s eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise, and the audience went absolutely wild. 

"They're rather good..don't you think?" Anathema asked.

"Oh...they are," Crowley agreed.  
…

“I have made appointments to look at four different places,” Tracy said as they were more than halfway there. “One, I fear, is out of my price range, but it looked charming, so I thought we might as well.”

Azirphale nodded, and there was a snore in the back seat. 

“Oh, it seems that poor Mr. Shadwell has fallen asleep. There’ll be no waking him now,” laughed Tracy. 

“Sound sleeper, is he?”

“Yes. I do only hope he wakes to see the first place. It’s my favorite, in the pictures.”

“I’m sure he will be,” Aziraphale said, knowing Shadwell would, in fact, be awake then.

They remained in silence for a few more moments, but Aziraphale decided to take advantage of Shadwell’s sleep, to ask Tracy her thoughts on his personal situation. 

“I’d like to thank you again for the magazines,” he said. 

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Tracy said. “I do hope they worked for you.”

“They did. Perhaps…a little too well.”

“Oh?” Tracy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Things did get rather…hot and heavy, I suppose is the correct phrase…between the two of us, rather quickly.”

“Well, I’m not surprised, as long as you two’ve been friends.”

“Yes, though I’m afraid it made things rather complicated,” Aziraphale said. 

Tracy clicked her tongue. “Oh dear.”

“Yes. Well, and at any rate, we have decided to spend some time apart to reflect on everything. Not very long, only…6 months…We do talk to one another, once a week, but other than that…” 

“Mmmm,” said Tracy with a nod.

“And, at the end of six months, we will be meeting again, if we decide to…continue our…well whatever we have.”

“I see.”

“Oh, I do hope it’s the right thing to do,” Aziraphale fretted aloud.

“Well, I can’t tell you if it is or not, but I can tell you that I’m quite sure he loves you very much. And I know you love him. So I am sure that whatever happens in 6 months, it will all be for the best.”

Tracy was rather good at saying comforting things. It didn’t relieve Aziraphale entirely, but hearing an outsider observe and verify the love between the angel and demon did make him relax somewhat. 

He knew that, regardless of what happened in 6 months, they would still be on their own side. 

When they arrived at the first house, Shadwell awoke with the snap of Aziraphale’s finger, having had a pleasant dream. 

The house was very small. It seemed to have been some sort of servants quarters to a large manor house. But it did have a nice, quaint kitchen and modest garden. Aziraphale assured them that there was nothing to be afraid of—the house was free from occult forces. Shadwell agreed, as though he also could sense occult forces as well, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

The next two places they viewed were less to the group’s liking. One was an apartment, which was larger than the first house, but was noisy. The second, Aziraphale was surprised to note, did have traces of something…spooky…so they all left rather quickly. 

The last house—the one Tracy couldn’t afford but wanted to see anyways—looked familiar to Aziraphale, and after a moment, he realized it was the vacation rental. He didn’t mention anything to Tracy, but they walked around the cottage, feeling awkward at first, as this was supposed to be a sanctuary for Crowley and him, but soon he felt rather at home. The kitchen was nice and updated, and there was a cozy study that overlooked a beautiful garden. 

But it was for sale, and he began to worry. What if it sold before the six months were up? Where would he and Crowley meet?

The woman who owned the place happily showed the group each room, noting special little nooks and storage spaces. 

At the end of the tour, Tracy sighed, and said, “it’s lovely, though too big for Shadwell and me…and too expensive.”

The owner of the house looked a little downcast at the news, but then, working on impulse, Aziraphale spoke.

“I’d like to buy it…if that is alright with everyone.”

…

At the end of the show, Crowley was completely enraptured. Every performance was tantalizing, the crowd was drunk with alcohol, lust, and excitement, and even Anathema seemed to let loose, just a little. 

The two of them waited for most of the audience to leave, and then walked up to Isabel, who was saying goodbye to some performers. 

She turned, and watched Crowley, her eyes traveling down to the sway of her hips, and she bit her lip with interest. Not sexual interest, but something else…

“Wonderful show, as usual,” Anathema said, hugging Isabel. 

“I’m so glad you could come! And did you enjoy it?” She asked, turning to Crowley.

“I did, actually,” Crowley replied. 

“Well, I hope to see you next month, then.” 

“I’m sure you will,” he said with a little tease. 

“You know…if you’d ever be interested in…performing…” she got out a business card and handed it to Crowley. “I do teach classes at a dance studio. I have a feeling that you’d be a natural.”

Crowley took the business card, inspecting it, before putting it into his pocket. “Would I?” he asked suggestively. He knew he would be.

Isabel nodded.

Anathema’s jaw dropped, looking back and forth between the two, before saying, “Well, as fun as this has been, I do believe it’s rather late and…I should probably drive back to Malibu. Can I…drop anyone off, anywhere?”

“Not me,” Crowley said. “I live close by, and am rather a fan of walking. I’ll say goodnight,” and with that, he nodded at the two of them, turned, and walked away, adding an extra little sway to his saunter knowing that the women would be watching his backside. He grinned to himself.

A burlesque performer. This could be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I've had the idea for Crowley to go to a burlesque show for weeks (and maybe perform??? ;))) ), and I'm finally here in the story. Without giving my identity too much away, this is something I am familiar with personally, so I am excited to bring it to life (and the burlesque performer described is very loosely based on a couple of real performers). 
> 
> I also am intentionally playing with the idea that Anathema is not only interested in men, as in the show I got the sense that she was maybe not super straight (just me?). Over the upcoming weeks, I do plan on explaining how she and Isabel know one another (but I don't want it to get sidetracked from the main Az/Crow storyline). 
> 
> Anyways, let me know what you think!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is busy with a new hobby, and Aziraphale worries that the demon is losing interest.
> 
> ....He isn't.

The next time Crowley and Aziraphale spoke, it was (to Aziraphale’s disappointment) rather short. Crowley told him he had an appointment, and so the two only spoke for a few minutes. 

It made Aziraphale nervous. What if Crowley was bored with him? The thought nagged at him.

The next week, Aziraphale and Tracy had lunch together, discussing the houses they were both in the process of purchasing. Without any miraculous intervention, it was quite the to-do, signing papers, transferring money, meeting with various people in business suits. Aziraphale, thinking about his terse conversation with Crowley, hoped that his purchase wasn’t a mistake. 

“It looks like Mr. Shadwell and I will be moving in about two months, assuming all the paperwork comes through alright” Tracy said as she sipped her tea. “So I’ve already started packing.”

“That’s wonderful, Tracy. Delighted to hear it.”

“And you?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Well…I’m not entirely sure that I will ever move there, really” he says almost wistful. “For one thing, I don't know that I could ever really leave my bookshop. The cottage was an impulsive purchase, and I’m not even sure if—“ he stops himself, and smiles sheepishly.

“You’re not sure if he will come back to you,” she says finishing his sentence, and being kind enough not to mention Crowley by name.

“I’m not. He’s been busy of late and, well, I’m not even sure that he wants to continue our weekly talks. I bought the house so that…so that we might have something…somewhere to be…together, but what if there is no us?”

Tracy nodded. “Well, I can’t actually predict the future, you know, but I’m sure it’ll all turn out for the best. In the end. Though I do hope that you’ll stay once in a while, even if it’s just by yourself—we’re practically going to be neighbors.”

Aziraphale smiled at her. “Yes, I would like that.”

…

Crowley took dance lessons every day for the next couple of weeks. He felt a little guilty that his phone conversation with Aziraphale was cut short, but Isabel was a demanding teacher with a busy schedule. She was also very loud, and at times almost mean. 

Crowley liked her...that is, when he didn’t want to terrify her into a coma with his snake form.

She had him walking in 4” heels at first, just slow walks around the floor. The natural serpentine sway of his hips was exaggerated by the heels, but Isabel worked on making sure his toes were pointed and turned out with each step. 

After rehearsal one evening, Isabel invited him out to a bar with her and Anathema. 

“So, I hear you’re dancing every day now,” Anathema said once they all had their drinks.

“He is,” Isabel said. “And he should be a natural, with those legs of his, but it’s going to take some work to get him performance ready.” 

Crowley just smiled a little teasingly and sipped his drink. 

“So…when will be your debut then?” Anathema asked.

“Two months, hopefully. Still have to pick out a dance number and everything,” Isabel answered, not letting Crowley get a word in edgewise. This was perhaps fine at rehearsal, but Crowley was suddenly uninterested in having the human speak for him. 

A few moments later, Isabel received a call from her apartment supervisor, saying that a pipe had burst in the building, and she needed to come right away to make sure her apartment wasn’t flooded and her things weren’t destroyed. She left in a hurry. 

Crowley smiled. 

“What are you doing in LA?” Anathema asked when they were alone. “Is there another apocalypse brewing out here?”

“No,” Crowley said, “Well, at least, not yet, as far as I’m aware.”

Anathema looked a little relieved at this, and waited for him to continue. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m here because Aziraphale, my—the—the angel,” he stopped and eyed Anathema before continuing. “Well we decided it would be best to…er…take some time apart. For a little while.”

“I see,” Anathema said. "And you're happy with that?"

Crowley laughed, "Not really, no. I wish Aziraphale were here with me, but...I suppose it's for the best. For now," Crowley replied.

“So you decided to come to LA?” she asked.

Crowley scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Seemed fun. Lots of mischief a demon could get into out here.”

“True,” Anathema replied, and she sipped her cocktail. When she did, a waitress walked by, and Anathema glanced at her briefly.

Crowley smiled at this, thinking that he might be able to tempt her after all. “So, what about your boyfriend? What was his name?” Crowley asked.

“It’s Newt. And…well…I’m afraid he and my mother did not see eye-to-eye on…things related to the apocalypse. So, he went back to England, and we are still working it out.”

This surprised Crowley…he was certain the reason Newt wasn't here would have something to do with Anathema and Isabel. 

“Things…related to the apocalypse?” Crowley echoed. 

Anathema sighed. “Yes, well, it turns out that Agnes Nutter—my ancestor who wrote that book—well, it turns out there was another book. Newt and I, well, we burned it rather than read it. My mother was…not happy.”

Crowley opened his mouth, and shut it again. The book. Aziraphale had a copy of it. He took another sip of his drink, debating whether or not he should tell Anathema. He decided not to at this time. 

“So, you and Isabel….” Crowley said, changing the topic. 

“What about us?”

“Well, I couldn’t help but sense that maybe there was more to your friendship than…friendship,” He felt like he wasn’t being suave right now, but whatever.

“Oh, yes. Well. Isabel is a girlfriend.” Crowley’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Newt and I have an open relationship.

“I see,” Crowley said nodding. I realized that tempting her into sex with another human was going to be less satisfying than he thought, as it wouldn’t really be transgressive. “So was I correct in thinking that you thought the waitress was attractive.”

“She is,” Anathema said, looking over to her. “Though I’m not really looking for anything else right now. There’s too much to handle, between Isabel, and Newt and the stuff with my mom.”

“Right,” Crowley replied. Anathema was un-temptable.

The two of them ordered another drink, and kept talking until it was very early in the morning. Anathema had many questions about occult forces, while Crowley had odd questions about random topics, like whether or not ducks have ears and how fish procreate.

…

It was Aziraphale’s turn to call Crowley, and he did so nervously. What if the demon was still too busy to talk? What if he didn’t want to talk to Crowley anymore?

He fluttered about his shop, trying to figure out what to say. 

“I’ll confront him directly,” the angel said aloud. “I’ll say, ‘Crowley, I am all too happy to talk to you, but if you’d rather not talk to me every week, well, we don’t have to.’” His heart broke a little at the thought of it, but he’d rather not hold the demon to something he wasn’t interested in. 

He let out a breathy sigh, and called Crowley. 

“H-hi, angel,” Crowley answered after a couple of rings. He was breathing heavily, and Aziraphale felt alarmed. 

“My dear you sound out of breath! Is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” Crowley said in between gasps. “Was…just…exercising.”

“Exercising!” Aziraphale said in disbelief. “You don’t exercise.”

“I do now,” Crowley replied, his breath slowing to a normal pace. 

“Well, if you’re…exercising…perhaps I ought to call you back later, when you’re alone.”

“No, this is fine now, I am alone,” Crowley replied. 

Aziraphale smiled. ‘Well, at least for that,’ he thought, though he was still skeptical. What was Crowley doing?

“How are you Aziraphale?” Crowley asked. 

“Doing well,” Aziraphale said. “Missing you, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, angel. I…I miss you too,” Crowley said. Aziraphale’s heart swelled at this. “Did you know, I learned that ducks do have ears. And apparently fish lay eggs.”

“Do they?” Aziraphale said interested. “And do gorillas have nests?” 

“Oh…I forgot to ask. I suppose I can find out later.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale replied, sitting on his couch. He wondered exactly who it was Crowley would be asking, but best not pry. “Do you really miss me Crowley, because if you don’t, well—“

“What? Yeah, I do, of course it do,” Crowley interrupted. 

“I'm serious Crowley. If you don’t wish to talk every week, we don’t have to.”

“Aziraphale, I do want to talk every week,” Crowley said. “Is this because of last week? When I couldn’t talk for very long?”

“Well, I didn’t want to assume…”

“Look. I’m not going to tell you what I’m doing, as per our rules, though I don’t actually think you’d disapprove,” Crowley said. “But, it has made me busier than I usually am. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss you—in fact, I think I’m doing this so I will survive the next five months.”

“It is already five months out, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said, feeling somewhat relieved. 

“Well, four and then some,” Crowley said. Aziraphale smiled. “Would you…er…like to hear exactly how much I’m missing you right now, Angel?” The question was asked with a suggestive tone. 

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. “You know, I think I would like that.”

…

Crowley settled down into his bed, beads of sweat dripping from him. He had been given sets of exercises to do at home every day, and he found that they tired his human body relatively easily. He was topless, wearing only a pair of tight-fitting boxer briefs. 

“Well,” Crowley said with a low voice. “I’m currently lying in my bed, almost naked, and wishing you were here.”

“Are you?” Aziraphale asked excitedly. 

“Shall I send you a picture?”

“Oh would you? Only…blast! Where the devil is my mobile telephone? Hold please.”

There was a loud thud, and Crowley took the time to begin palming himself over his boxer briefs. He wasn’t hard yet, and so his movements were soft, and he closed his eyes thinking about Aziraphale in lingerie.

After what seemed like an eternity to the self-pleasuring (and now half-hard) demon, Aziraphale finally picked up the phone. 

“My dear, I did find my mobile telephone, but it seems to be…erm…not charged. And I can’t find one of those cords, with the plug. I would miracle it back, only I am rather hesitant about using miracles in non-emergency situations.”

Crowley sighed. “I understand, angel, it’s alright. Why don’t you just settle down, relax a little,” Crowley murmured. 

“Alright,” Aziraphale said. “Are you…erm…still naked Crowley?”

“Well I wasn’t naked…just almost naked. Would you like me to be?”

“Yes, I think I would,” Aziraphale squeaked, and Crowley smiled, slipping his boxer briefs off. 

“Are you naked?” Crowley asked. 

“Erm..no. Should I be?” Aziraphale said. 

“You absolutely should be,” Crowley replied. 

“Very well dear. Hold please,” Another loud thud followed by silence. Crowley sighed and rolled his eyes. He’d really have to teach the angel how to put a phone on speaker. 

After what felt like another eternity to the self-pleasuring (and now fully erect) demon, Aziraphale picked up the phone. 

“Alright my dear, I am completely naked,” Aziraphale announced happily.

Crowley chuckled. “Good. Would you like to hear about what I’m imagining?”

“Very much,” Aziraphale replied. 

“I’m imagining you, here with me, wearing that lingerie that looks so divine on you.” There was a breathy giggle on the other end of the line at this. “And I’m imagining you on top of me, letting me dig my fingers into your thighs and really appreciate the way leather looks on you.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale chirped. “And, do you imagine you are inside of me?”

“No,” Crowley answered. “I’m not inside of you. I’m imagining your member rubbing against mine, so that you can feel how hard you make me.”

“Oh, my goodness Crowley. That is quite the image.”

“Mmm it is, angel. I’m imagining that I’m taking both of our shafts in one hand, and stroking them at the same time, while you roll your hips. With my other hand I squeeze your thigh. Fuck, I love your thighs.” The last sentence came out almost as a growl, and precum now covered the top of his cock. 

“Do you, my dear?” Aziraphale asked with a slight nervous tone. 

“Oh, I do, Aziraphale. They’re so gorgeous…” he panted a little, thinking about them “…I just want to kiss them…lick them…bite them…fuck them…shit, Aziraphale, I want to fuck your thighs so bad.”

Aziraphale made a breathy, moaning sound. “H-how, oh, how would you, erm…”

“I’d roll you on your side angel, and I’d…nngk..I’d slide my cock up to where I could…oh fuck..just slide in between them, and I’d…mmm…thrust. Maybe miracle some lube. Fuck I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“Are you?” Aziraphale asked with a little moan. 

“I am. Shit, Angel, I am not going to last long if I keep thinking of this,” Crowley panted. He had worked himself up into a frenzy, his hips slightly thrusting as his fist pumped with increasing speed. He could feel his orgasm fast approaching. 

Both of them moaned into the phone intermittently, Crowley losing focus on verbalizing the story until Aziraphale said with a soft, breathy whisper, “Tell me more, Crowley.”

“I would just fuck your thighs, pushing myself against you as hard and fast as I could, letting you feel how hard I am. Then I’d reach around and grab your member, and stroke you at the same time that my dick—-“

“Oooh,” Aziraphale cried loudly through the phone. His orgasm came not a moment too soon as Crowley’s own was not far behind. 

“Yess, yess, Fuck angel,” Crowley moaned while he came all over his black satin sheets.

…

Aziraphale let out a soft, satisfied sigh when he heard Crowley climax. “You make such lovely sounds when you orgasm, my dear,” he said, and he got up to look for a rag to clean himself off.

“Oh…good,” Crowley said, sounded a bit winded. “Was that…good?”

“I daresay it was. It has been a little while since I, erm…you know…”

“Same, actually,” Crowley replied and Aziraphale felt surprisingly reassured to hear this, though he tried not to dwell on what Crowley was up to. 

“Well, then. Shall we try again next week?” Aziraphale asked, biting his lip. 

“Works for me,” Crowley replied. 

“Very well, my dear. It is your turn to call, you know, so I shall look forward to it.”

“Sounds good, angel. Oh! And Aziraphale…”

“Yes?” 

“…do charge your phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading, and your comments. I can't tell you how much they make me smile. 
> 
> I may do a little skipping ahead in the timeline in the next chapter, and fair warning there probably won't be as much smut. But it will hopefully still be scandalous.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale helps Tracy pack up to move, and Crowley starts his career as a burlesque performer.

Aziraphale did charge his phone. 

And he proceeded to send several scandalous photographs to Crowley over the next few weeks. After every picture Crowley would try and offer advice: ”tap the photo to focus,” “try adding a little light,” “if you were wearing lingerie it would really showcase your cock…”. Aziraphale tried all of these things, and did admit there was a remarkable improvement to his photograph quality.

One week, the two tried to FaceTime, but it ended with the angel dropping his phone flat on his nose when he was dangerously close to achieving climax, and he thus refused to try it again. Crowley pouted a great deal at this, which was rather adorable to Aziraphale, but he felt he was too clumsy to really be able to master the art of it. 

The angel also got in the habit of sending weekly textual messages to Crowley. Mostly, they were filled with what he missed about the demon: “I long to run my fingers through your gorgeous red hair,” and “the couch looks so empty without your limbs splayed all over the cushions,” and "did you know that you sort of snore when you sleep? It’s almost a hiss…my nights have been so quiet since we parted.”

Both were careful, as per the rules of this new arrangement, never to reveal too much about what they were up to. Aziraphale let slip that Tracy and Shadwell were moving, and Aziraphale ascertained that Crowley had been spending time with one or two women (after the demon used the “she” pronoun a couple of times). But otherwise, the angel had no idea where on earth Crowley was. He admitted that he was tempted to check the app that Crowley placed on his phone would reveal his location, but he was good and never gave in. 

Once they were nearly 3 months into their separation, Tracy and Shadwell moved to their little bungalow in the South Downs, and Aziraphale offered to help with the packing. He showed up to Tracy’s apartment, now boxed and bare, lacking that spark of color and bohemian aesthetic that once decorated the interior. A familiar looking young man was there, and after a beat, Aziraphale realized it was the fellow who was also at Tadfield, the one who was with Miss Device.

“H-hello, I’m…Newton Pulsifer,” the young man said, as he set down a box to shake Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale took it and smiled warmly. “Nice to meet you Mr. Pulsifer. I am Aziraphale…but you can call me A.Z.”

“Please…call me Newt,” he said, and he shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Did you two not become acquainted before?” Tracy asked as she came out of her bedroom with another box. “This is Shadwell’s young protege…or was, rather. At any rate, it is very kind of him to offer to help us.”

“As long as I don’t have to…do anything with computers,” he said. “Haven’t been able to bring myself to play with them since the…well…whatever that was.”

Aziraphale smiled politely and nodded, not exactly understanding what Newton was inferring, but acknowledging that it must have been something to do with the apocalypse.

The two of them, Newton and Aziraphale, spent the day helping Tracy and Shadwell load furniture and boxes into a truck downstairs. A couple other young men appeared throughout the day…men who Tracy seemed to know rather well, and who Shadwell chased off the moment the heavy furniture was moved. 

When everything was loaded and Tracy’s apartment completely bare, the couple set off for their new place, leaving Newton and Aziraphale to wave at them from the sidewalk. 

“Now then,” Aziraphale said looking at Newton. “After all that labor, I have certainly worked up an appetite. The breakfast Tracy provided us was hours ago, and I do think that Shadwell had more than his fair share of pastries. Care to accompany me to an early dinner? My treat.”

Newton nodded, and offered to drive them, pointing to his small, yellow car. 

“Eh…better not,” Aziraphale said, eyeing it suspiciously. “There’s a wonderful place for curry just down the street…only a couple of blocks down. Shall we just walk?”

Newton agreed, and walked next to Aziraphale, keeping his eyes cast downward, and trying to make pleasant small talk. 

They talked of the weather, and Newton mentioned the tornado during the Almost-Apocalypse, and Aziraphale raised his eyebrow with interest, remembering reading something about tornadoes in his copy of The Wizard of Oz. When they were seated at the restaurant, their conversation turned to how Newton met Mr. Shadwell, his brief time as a witch hunter, and how he met (and fell in love with) Anathema Device. 

“So, you’re still in contact with her?” Aziraphale asked as he ladled a hearty spoonful of palak paneer over his basmati rice. 

“Yes…though as of late we haven’t been talking as frequently. She’s been…busy I suppose,” he looked down forlornly.

“Well…have you thought about visiting her?”

“I have…visited her, I mean. And it was alright at first—wonderful, even. But then her mother…” he swallowed nervously, and took a sip of his water. Aziraphale waited patiently for him to continue. 

“Her mother found out that we destroyed a second book of prophesy, and…she blamed me for it. I suppose it was my fault—to a degree. I just didn’t want Anathema to feel trapped again.”

“That sounds very supportive,” said Aziraphale, trying not to be too shocked at the thought of burning such an old and rare book. Thankfully, he had his own copy in his shop.

“Yes, well, her mother said it wasn’t my right to get involved, and…well, things just escalated from there.”

Aziraphale nodded, and thought about his own copy of the prophetic book. He realized in that moment that he hadn’t really been spending much time with it. As of late, he had been fussing over his newly purchased home in South Downs, trying to read up on interior decoration and carpentry and fully feeling the tribulations of being a home owner in the 21st century. The house had come furnished—though he suspected that Crowley would find the style dated. His attempts to buy anything to make it more attractive to the demon, however, were always disappointing—he never felt that he got it quite right.

He mulled over this for a moment, chewing his food slowly, letting the heat build and spread across his tongue. He was still somewhat interested in the prophesies, especially wanting to see if anything pertained to either Crowley or himself. But he hadn’t been able to make any progress, and since his priorities had shifted to learning about current home ownership, he had sort of given up. But Anathema’s mother…she must be an expert on Agnes Nutter. Perhaps, if he showed her the book—made copies of the pages (of course he would not actually give her his copy)… the two of them could begin to decipher it.

“Do you suppose if there were another copy…one that her mother could see…her anger would cool? Make things better for everyone.”

Newton laughed, and poked at his chicken tikka masala. “It could, I suppose, but I don’t even think one exists…”

Aziraphale smiled, his eyes lighting up. 

“Finish your food, lad, and come with me.”

…

Crowley was really appreciating the effort Aziraphale began to put into his dick pics. They were becoming less blurry, easier to see, and the lingerie—oh Satan, the lingerie—was almost enough to make Crowley spontaneously ejaculate. 

Crowley also felt himself somehow falling deeper in love with Aziraphale (if such a thing were possible) when he read the text message love letters. He wasn’t himself a great writer, but in return, he would tell him deliciously dirty stories. The angel was particularly interesting in hearing about the various times throughout history Crowley self-pleasured to the thoughts of Aziraphale, and the various wet-dreams he had over the centuries. Aziraphale loved hearing the stories, moaned wantonly when Crowley talked about the various lewd positions he imagined, and would almost always climax when the demon described how hard he was at the mere thought of the angel’s pale blonde curls, thick thighs, pale eyes and gasping breath.

But on the days that Crowley wasn’t pleasuring himself to the sound of Aziraphale gasping his name through the phone, he was practicing his burlesque routine. 

“We should figure out your stage name,” Isabel said one evening after practice. “After all, your debut is in a month.”

“Beelzebub,” Crowley suggested with a smirk, and Isabel squints. 

“It needs to be something catchy…suggestive…”

Crowley thinks. “Demon queen?” He asks.

Isabel bites her lip. “It’s better,” and she looks him up and down. “What about something…Serpentine. You have a thing for snakes, I know,” she said. “Or…snake eyes? You’re always wearing those contacts.”

Crowley blinked. He had forgotten that he told Isabel he liked to wear contacts, and the ease with which she accepted this answer was almost laughable. 

He squirmed a little. The snake thing was part of his act, as his hips and back would sway and arch like a snake, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be defined by it though a name. 

“What about…Ass-modeus?” He suggested, and Isabel cocked her head to the side. “It’s a joke. Asmodeus is the demon of lust.”

And thus it was settled.

Crowley’s first night performing as Ass-modeus was incredible. He wasn’t nervous, exactly, but there was a moment when the lights came on and the music started that his mind went blank. A catcall from the audience broke him out of his trance, and he moved, slowly and sensually across the stage. 

The heels he wore helped exaggerate the natural sway of his hips. He peeled off his clothing in time with the music, letting each garment pile onto the floor to a resounding cheer from the audience. He dragged a hand up his stocking-covered leg, letting his back sway to the music. 

On stage, he could feel the lust and temptation from every single person in the audience. It was perhaps a little unfair, being a temptation demon and all. He could read the people’s innermost desires, and play to them in his performance. When he sensed someone on one side of the room was growing bored, he would switch to a new angle, rip off a new piece of clothing more quickly than originally planned, or hiss (the audience really seemed to go wild for his hisses).

At the end of the routine, when he was completely naked except for a snakeskin thong, the audience broke out into a torrent of hoots and cheers. It was a success, and he sauntered offstage to the other performers behind the curtains, who all congratulated him on a very impressive debut. 

During curtain call, the cheers for him were the loudest of all the performers. He noted that this made the headliner a little jealous, but they were also eyeing Crowley desirously, and Crowley gave them a little wink in response. 

After the show, Isabel gave Crowley his share of the tips, and begged him to return next month. 

“I’ll help you with a new number—any song you like. Please!”

Crowley smiled. 

Of course he would perform again. 

The next month went by quickly. He selected a sultry cover of Queen’s ‘Somebody to Love’ as his next burlesque dance number, and got to work with Isabel, coming up with new moves, new ways to entice and tempt the audience. 

It was going to be a good number. Crowley was even more excited to perform this dance than he was his first.

The night before his second performance, he spoke to Aziraphale on the phone. At first, it had been very difficult to keep his act a secret from the angel, but after his first performance a month earlier, he found that he didn’t want Aziraphale finding out about this at all.

Truth be told, Crowley would have been a little embarrassed if Aziraphale discovered his burlesque life, and mortified if the angel laughed at him or rolled his eyes. Throughout history, Aziraphale often rolled his eyes at how Crowley dressed (even though he could tell the angel was definitely interested), but in this particular endeavor he worried that the angel might judge him…judge his dancing, think him not…sexy. It was probably a ridiculous fear, as he damn well knew how bloody gorgeous he looked on that stage, but that was for a bunch of humans who he didn’t care about—humans who were easily tempted, whose lusty gaze made Crowley smirk, in whose attention Crowley reveled with confidence.

He did care about Aziraphale, however, what the angel thought of him. As much as Crowley enjoyed teasing humans, enjoyed turning them on, he actually wanted Aziraphale. That want was not a tease, not a performance. It was genuine and true.

So as they talked on the phone, Crowley didn’t feel tempted to tell Aziraphale what he was up to. 

“You sound…tired Aziraphale, are you alright?” He asked the angel who was clearly yawning. 

“Quite alright, my dear. It’s just been a rather busy couple of days, and I daresay, as much as I would love to…eh…partake in some more intimate moments with you, I’m afraid this isn’t exactly the proper setting for such deeds. I do hope you aren’t terribly disappointed.”

Crowley was disappointed, and now curious as to where Aziraphale was, but he didn’t mention it. 

“It’s alright, angel. Next week, perhaps?"

“Yes. Next week sounds lovely. I look forward to it immensely.”

They spoke for a few more minutes, mostly expressing how much they missed one another, before they said their goodbyes. 

The next evening, Crowley prepared for his number backstage. He got a text from Anathema wishing him to “break a leg,” and he smiled as he glued on his fake lashes and covered himself with silver body glitter. 

His number started the second act, and the audience was going wild as he slunk on stage. The lights were bright, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The crowd was still somewhat difficult to see, but they were loudly cheering, and so he began to strip to the music, swaying his hips, twirling suggestively, and finally walking to the center of the stage. 

*Somebody* 

He slid his robe down one shoulder.

*Somebody* 

He slid his robe off the other shoulder.

*Can anybody find meeee* 

He sauntered up the catwalk holding his robe close to him, preparing to let it fall completely, when suddenly he saw a blonde with wide eyes and jaw dropped staring at him in disbelief sitting in the front row.

*Somebody to love* 

He dropped the robe, whether on purpose to go with the music or out of shock at seeing Aziraphale he wasn't sure. His heart stopped and his eyes widened, and he felt frozen, standing onstage now in a black corset with a black garter belt, thong, and stockings. 

The audience cheered wildly. Crowley and Aziraphale stared at one another, eyes locked. "Yeah, take it off," a voice said to his right, and Crowley came to, breaking his gaze from Aziraphale. He turned around, and continued his number, trying to remember the moves, trying to unlace his garter to the rhythm of the music, but the whole time the only thing he could think of was…

Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you don't mind I skipped ahead a few months. I have been planning this part for so long, I really just wanted to get here. 
> 
> Don't worry, I'll fill you in on Aziraphale's side of things next week ;)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hear about the past few month's from Anathema's perspective, and see what Aziraphale was thinking when he saw Crowley's performance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I thought the best thing to do would be to get a third party in here--I hope it works!
> 
> Also, I mention Anathema's mother quite a bit, but I don't have a name for her. I don't think she has one, but any suggestions for a name and I'll make the change!

Herein lies a nice and accurate account of Anathema Device and the first few months of her new friendship with a demon named Crowley.

Anathema Device was, generally speaking, glad to have a demon for a friend. She was always honest with people, about her identity as an occultist, and her role in saving the world—but most people didn’t really take her seriously. Anytime Anathema brought up ley lines or prophesy or portents to Isabel, her blonde friend would roll her eyes at “that Wiccan stuff.” Newt, of course, completely believed her and took everything Anathema said seriously—but his being in London meant that they were not able to talk as frequently as either would perhaps like. So when Crowley came into her life, she found that she had a special companion. They began to meet up in the evenings fairly regularly—some times, up to five nights a week—mostly discussing either burlesque, the end of the world, Anathema’s open relationship with Newt, and other various occult topics. 

But, as much as she enjoyed her new friend, she was growing really tired of listening to drunken Crowley mope over his boyfriend.

It had taken about a month for the demon to open up about his relationship—and it usually wasn’t until after drinking a fair amount of alcohol. But once those floodgates were open, the whining just wouldn’t stop. At least twice a week, she would have to spend hours listening to a Crowley slur and whine pitifully over how much he missed his boyfriend. When he was completely sober, he would deny every making such remarks and rebuke any attempt at trying to get him to see things more clearly, which made the whole situation even more frustrating to a levelheaded Anathema.

“Why don’t you just go meet him?” She asked a few nights after his debut burlesque performance, as they sat at a table at a small, dark bar. “You clearly still want one another, and you’re being, frankly, a little….”

“Rrromantic?” Crowley slurred as he finished his fourth drink of the evening.

“Ridiculous.” Anathema replied, rolling her eyes. “Just tell him you don’t want to do the long distance thing anymore. It’s not like….” she thought of her own tense situation with Newt and her mother. “It’s not like you’re going to hurt anyone by heading back to England.”

“But I have the shhhoww,” Crowley replied, referring to his new life as a burgeoning burlesque star. “I can’t just” *hiccup,* “leave my faaaansssss.”

Anathema rolled her eyes at how dramatic he was being. Fans. He'd had *one* performance. “Fine then, if you’re so dedicated to burlesque, why don’t you just…invite him to your next show?”

Crowley let out a rather pathetic sob at this, and some of the other bar patrons glanced over. “I c-can’t, don’t you sssseeee, he’ll laugh at me.” Crowley said dramatically. 

Anathema was pretty sure the demon was just fishing for compliments. 

“He won’t,” she said curtly. 

“But what if he doesssss,” Crowley hissed back and rested his head on the table. 

“You’re very good, and you know that. You had the audience eating out of the palm of your hand—I’m sure he would be very proud of you.”

Crowley just made a whining, cat-like noise at this, and Anathema sighed, shaking her head no. 

“You are both idiots,” she said under her breath.

This was not the only conversations Anathema and Crowley would have on the subject, but it always ended with Crowley being incredibly melodramatic, and Anathema getting increasingly irritated. 

A couple of weeks later, Newt called her with some unexpected news. 

“Dearest, I…I found something interesting. About…Agnes Nutter.” he said, somewhat nervously.

“Oh?” She said, her heart squeezing in her chest. Hearing her ancestor’s name made her uneasy—she had only recently been freed of Agnes’ hold over her life (not to mention the fact that her mother was still angry that she and Newt had destroyed the second book). 

“Well, you see, it’s the second book of prophesies. The one we burned. I…well I think there might be another copy.”

Anathema’s stomach flipped. Another copy? “Wh—How? Where?”

“Yes, well, do you remember that chap in Tadfield. The blonde one, with the sword?”

“I do,” she said hesitantly and she immediately thought of the demon. She had mentioned Crowley to Newt in conversations prior, but she had not mentioned the demon’s relationship with the angel. 

“Well, it appears as though he has another copy.”

Anathema shook her head in disbelief. “That’s impossible,” she said.

“I daresay, it is very unlikely, but it isn’t impossible. In fact…I’ve seen it.”

Anathema’s jaw dropped. “You’ve seen it?”

“I have. And I must say it is, most definitely, a copy of the one we burned.”

Anathema sat down, her mind whirring. She still very much did not want to know what the book said…but if she could get it to her mother, perhaps it would heal the divide between her and Newt. 

After a moment of collecting her thoughts, Anathema asked, “Could we get it? Give it to my mom?”

“Well, I daresay this fellow is rather tetchy when it comes to his books. But I do believe we’ve worked out an arrangement to make photocopies of it to share with her. Would that…do you think that would be enough?”

“Enough to convince my mom not to be mad at you anymore? It might be,” Anathema mulled it over thoughtfully. “It’s worth a shot at any rate.”

“Excellent,” Newt said. “Right, well, I think it’ll take a little time to make the copies—it’s an old book after all—so, perhaps I could…deliver it myself…in a couple of weeks.”

Anathema’s heart skipped a beat. She’d be able to see Newt again, and maybe…maybe her mother would forgive the two of them. 

“I can’t wait,” she said. 

A couple of weeks later, Newt and Aziraphale set off from London to Los Angeles, and were to arrive at LAX the day before Crowley’s second burlesque performance.

‘He’s insisting on coming with,’ a text message from Newt read before the flight took off. ‘Hope that’s alright.’

‘It is,’ Anathema said in a text message reply, but before hitting send, she wondered something. ‘You haven’t mentioned Crowley to him, have you?’

‘Crowley? The burlesque performer? I haven’t…why would I?’

‘Great, do me a favor and don’t mention him. I’ll explain why when you get here.’

‘Oh right. Crowley was at the thing too, at the airbase. Ok. Won’t mention. Plane is boarding. See you soon. XX’

Anathema read the text, rolled her eyes at the fact Newt forgot that Crowley was at the Amost-Pocalypse, but still smiled and quickly put the phone back in her purse. She then turned her attention back to Crowley, who was now at the ‘get-drunk-and-wallow-in-self-pity’ point of the evening.

“Texting your boyffffriend,” a drunk Demon asked. “Wish I could text mine.” 

“I bet you do,” she said curtly. 

Anathema picked up Newt and Aziraphale from the airport, and asked if they needed to make any stops before going to meet her mother. 

“I would like to freshen up a bit, and I am a bit peckish,” Newt admitted, and Aziraphale’s face lit up at the mention of food. 

They decided to check into a hotel near the airport, and had a late lunch at the restaurant therein. Aziraphale decided to make a quick stop into his room before they set off, and Anathema took advantage of his absence to tell Newt about Crowley’s unnecessarily complicated relationship with the angel.

“So…they’re doing a long distance thing, just because…why exactly?”

“Who knows. The whole thing is very silly, and it’s driving me up the wall. But anyways, since they’re both in the same city, I’m not sure if I should arrange a meeting or not. My inclination is…not…but what if they see one another anyways?”

Newt bit his lip thoughtfully. “No, I don't think you should have them meet on purpose..best not get involved.”

Anathema nodded. “Crowley does have a show tomorrow night. I am planning to attend—to support him and Isabel. Maybe he will have left by then? Or maybe my mother can distract him?”

But before they could hatch a plan, Aziraphale came back. 

“Right then. Shall we go?” He asked cheerfully, carrying a satchel containing the photocopies of Agnes Nutter’s second book of prophesy. 

Aziraphale presented the photocopies of the book to Anathema’s mother, who was completely ecstatic. The two of them, angel and mother, spoke in great detail about the book, the possible meanings of the prophesies. The mother asked to see the original, which Aziraphale said was quite impossible, but he was happy to provide any more photocopies of information she might want. 

“I was rather hoping we might try and decipher it together,” Aziraphale said. “You are an expert, after all, and I…well, I do know a little about these things.”

Anathema’s mother smiled at the offer, and agreed. 

“Shall I come back tomorrow then?” Aziraphale asked eagerly, and Anathema and Newt shared a knowing glance at one another. 

“That would be perfect,” the mother said. “Although you are more than welcome to stay here. You and Newt.”

Anathema smiled at this. These copies had worked. Her mother was no longer angry—it seemed as though all was forgiven. 

Both angel and ex-witchhunter accepted the invitation, and the four of them had a pleasant evening filled with wine and tapas that were delivered to the house. 

Anathema and Newt lazed about by the pool for most of the next day, catching up with one another, enjoying being in each other’s company, and making plans for the evening’s activities. Newt told Anathema that was happy to see Isabel again—she knew he wasn’t the jealous type, and he seemed genuinely to like the brazen burlesque producer.

“I think if we leave around five, we can have time to find parking and grab a bite to eat before the show?”

“Did someone mention food?” Aziraphale asked, stepping outside to enjoy the view. 

“Oh…yes maybe…were you hungry?” Anathema asked, trying to cover up their plans.

“Now that you mention it, there are some things I’d rather been eager to try, now that I’m in California. It’s always a pleasure to experience new cuisine.”

Anathema smiled, and watched as her mother—looking a little exasperated—joined them outside. 

“Weren’t the two of you going to a burlesque show tonight?” her mother asked. Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with interest. 

“Er…yes…but…”

“A burlesque show! Why I haven’t been to anything vaudevillian in….years,” the angel said. 

“You should bring him along,” her mother suggested, walking over to Anathema.

“Oh but..there won’t be any tickets…” Anathema said, trying to find an excuse. 

“Anathema, he’s a lovely man but driving me up the wall with how politely stubborn he is. Please just take him.” Her mother whispered quietly so that Aziraphale wouldn't hear.

Anathema gulped. She didn’t want to rattle the cage with her mother, not after they had finally patched things up. 

“O-okay,” she replied. 

When it came time to leave, Anathema hoped, really hoped, they could find a way to convince Aziraphale not to go, but he was taking none of their cues, and really seemed excited—though he was talking about it as though it was some bawdy Victorian spectacle.

“You do know it’s pretty much entirely striptease,” Anathema said as they ate some pre-show tacos, hoping that this would convince Aziraphale not to come with them. It did not.

“Stripping?!” Aziraphale bit his lip thoughtfully. “I daresay that might be a slight change from the last burlesque show I saw. Though…a bit more, perhaps, like the Moulin Rouge. Now there was an interesting night!” the angel laughed, and bit into a taco, and Anathema looked desperately at Newt. 

‘What should I do? Should I tell him? Should I tell Crowley?’ she texted Newt secretly. He read it, and eventually replied. 

‘Let him go. He’s going to go anyways—seems like it’s meant to be. And maybe he’ll skip out before Crowley performs. Also, if you tell Crowley, he’ll just freak out and it might ruin his performance—then you’d have Isabel’s show in trouble.’

Anathema nodded, now even more stressed, and she found that she couldn’t finish the rest of her dinner. How did everything get so complicated?

She looked at Aziraphale, oblivious as anything, happily snacking on tortilla chips. 

Right. These two fools. 

Crowley’s performance as Ass-Modeus the burlesque performer was opening the second act. Anathema hoped Aziraphale would leave after seeing the first few numbers, but the angel was more intrigued than anything. He asked about how long it took to make the costumes, clapped wildly whenever a trick was done, seemed impressed whenever a performer made her tassels move in complete circles. 

After the intermission, the MC announced the name of the next demon, and Aziraphale laughed. 

“That’s the name of a lust demon, you know,” he said to Anathema, who at this point was wide-eyed and fearful. Maybe she could pretend to be sick—there was an idea—get them outside just long enough for the number to finish—-

Too late. 

Crowley slunk on the stage, and Anathema watched as Aziraphale’s smile turned into slack-jawed shock. 

…

Aziraphale saw nothing wrong with attending a burlesque show. Sure, it was perhaps not as refined at Shakespeare—but then again, the artistry was impressive. The stories that the performers told through striptease, the shiny, creative costumes, the way that one act could bring an entire audience into rip-roaring laughter or stun them into awed silence—it was truly a remarkable art form. 

He did note after the first number that burlesque had indeed changed greatly since the Victorian era. It used to be a place for people to sometimes do bawdy dances, but usually perform satirical farces that often referenced Shakespeare. Some prudish Victorians had taken offense to the performances, but Aziraphale knew Shakespeare, and knew that the old playwright would probably have a hearty laugh at his plays being performed thusly for low audiences. 

This new interpretation of burlesque was a bit more like the can-can dancers of the late 19th century, although the audience had changed (for the better, Aziraphale decided). Sure, there were still some drunken, leering men, but there were also people who seemed to support the performers in positive ways, cheering wildly, not grabbing at the performers or acting otherwise inappropriate. It all seemed rather lovely. 

Aziraphale had been having an absolutely wonderful time, although he did notice that Anathema seemed out of sorts. He supposed there was something between her and Newt—best not pry—and he focused his attention to the show. 

This all changed with Ass-Modeus stepped on stage. Aziraphale’s stomach flipped and his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. 

Crowley. Crowley was here. Crowley was performing. Crowley was…oh heavens, Crowley was gorgeous.

Aziraphale tried to get himself to move…leave the theater…shrink down…anything. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Crowley slunk his way around the stage, wearing heels and a gorgeous robe—all of which accentuated the sensual way his hips swayed with every step. The angel’s mouth went dry, and he was frozen. Crowley was seductive, alluring, beautiful, and—

‘Oh dear Lord, he’s now staring straight at me,’ a panicked Aziraphale realized, and then demon’s robe slipped off, revealing...

A corset. And stockings. Aziraphale felt weak. Crowley looked delicious, the sinews of his body accentuated by a tight lingerie that hugged his thin frame. 

There was no way Aziraphale could leave now, even though he felt like he might discorporate at any moment. Crowley performed his act beautifully—every item of lingerie slowly coming off with graceful machinations. Aziraphale hitched his breath as Crowley slipped off one stocking, pulling it with his teeth and then throwing it on stage. He mirrored the movement with the other stocking, and then slipped off the corset, unlacing it to the beat of the music. 

By the end of the number, the only thing Crowley wore was a black, snakeskin thong. 

The audience went wild. The lights dimmed, and Crowley quickly walked offstage. 

Oh dear. 

“I’m afraid I must dash,” Aziraphale said to Anathema. She looked like she was saying something, but he couldn’t hear anything clearly over the rushing in his ears. “No, no, it’s alright. I’ll meet you when the show is over,” he replied, and left the theater hastily. He had to leave, had to flee. He had accidentally broken the rules of their new arrangement and he was sure that if he stayed a moment longer he would completely muck everything up. 

…

Crowley ran off stage as quickly as he could, brushing past the stage crew and performers waiting in the wings. People were congratulating him, but he barely registered their words. The only thing on his mind was Aziraphale. 

He ran to his phone, and opened the app he had set up on their devices. Sure enough, the angel was here—not just in LA but right here in the theater. 

Only now he saw that Aziraphale was leaving, walking down the block.

“Shit,” Crowley hissed as the stage kitten handed him his robe. He slipped it on, and ran quickly over to the backstage exit. It led him to an alley and he looked up, just in time to see Aziraphale walking down the sidewalk quickly. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called out, and the angel stopped, and slowly turned to him.

The two stared at one another in shocked silence for a moment, until Aziraphale broke it.

“Crowley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I know it was a bit of a departure with Anathema's perspective, but I really thought it was the best way to explain why Aziraphale ended up at the show.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have an evening together in L.A.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there smut?
> 
> Not really.
> 
> Are you all going to hate me after reading this chapter?
> 
> Probably. 
> 
> Will Aziraphale and Crowley get together at some point?
> 
> ....yes.

Crowley looked almost celestial with the streetlight casting what looked like a halo around his red hair (which had grown a little since Aziraphale saw it last). The angel stepped into the alley, tentatively, and feeling a little guilty. 

“Aziraphale, what….what the hell are you doing here?” Crowley asked with an accusatory tone. Aziraphale flinched in response. 

“Well…obviously I had no idea you were here, my dear,” Aziraphale replied, taking a few more steps closer to Crowley. 

“You didn’t?” Crowley asked, his eyes narrowed.

“No. I didn’t. Or else I never would have dreamed of coming,” said Aziraphale, who was now close enough to see Crowley’s face. The angel gasped a little, and before he could stop himself he said, “Crowley you look beautiful. Utterly enchanting.” Aziraphale’s heart was fluttering. 

Crowley cleared his throat, and took a step closer to Aziraphale. “Look, if you think flattery is going to distract me from this….” Crowley stopped and smiled. “You’re absolutely correct. Enchanting, you said?” Crowley posed a little turning his shoulder coyly and popping a hip. 

Aziraphale nodded with wide, eager eyes, and let his gaze wander down Crowley’s body. 

“Crowley, you’re barefoot!” he said when his eyes landed on the demon’s feet. 

“Yes, well, I would have had time to put on some shoes if you hadn’t decided to run off without saying anything to me,” Crowley retorted. But the demon snapped and suddenly he was wearing some slippers….well, you might call them slippers. They really looked like black high heels with black feathers. It made the demon ever so slightly taller, and Aziraphale suddenly felt a little overwhelmed by the demon. 

He didn’t mind the feeling. 

Aziraphale swallowed, ignoring his urge to wrap his arms around Crowley, pull him in for a rough kiss, tangle his fingers in the curly locks of red hair. He briefly imagined what if might be like if Crowley pushed him roughly against the dirty brick wall, letting their hips grind together while mouths clashed together in a frenzy of heat and passion. The image caused Aziraphale to shudder, and he looked up into Crowley’s eyes, which were not covered by lenses. 

“No sunglasses,” the angel said gently, his hand reaching up to Crowley’s face and softly brushing his temple with fingertips. Crowley’s breath hitched at the touch. 

“Yeah, well, they seem to like my eyes. Tell ‘em it’s contacts,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale could see that the demon’s chest was heaving with heavy breath. The sight made Aziraphale's stomach flutter.

They looked at one another for a few moments, Aziraphale feeling completely bewitched by Crowley, unable to tear himself away from the demon. ‘You’re ruining it,’ he thought to himself. ‘You should say goodbye, leave now, leave before…’

“Oh, Aziraphale…" Crowley moaned before grasping the angel’s lapels and pulling him in, meeting his mouth with a soft but deep kiss. 

Everything went completely white for an instant, and time seemed to stand still. Had Crowley made time stand still? There were no noises of cars or people—just the rustling of eager hands running over fabric and lustful moans.

“I missed, you, oh, I missed you so much angel,” Crowley said in between hot, wet kisses as the demon worked his way around Aziraphale’s jaw and down his neck. Aziraphale melted into the feeling of tongue and teeth pressing wantonly against his skin, and he tilted his head to the side, wanting more.The demon wrapped one arm around Aziraphale’s back, holding him in place, while the other wandered down the angel’s backside, grabbing at his posterior with greedy hands. Aziraphale squeezed his eyes closed and let out a rather loud groan, completely undone by the feeling of Crowley’s strong hands wandering over his body and his mouth pressing into the angel's neck. Aziraphale, in turn, slipped his arms inside Crowley’s robe, and realized that the demon was only wearing the thong and pasties underneath. His fingers traipsed across Crowley's skin, moving down until his pinkies brushed against the thong's elastic waistband. 

“Oh…fuck,” Aziraphale uttered, entirely by accident. The angel really tried to avoid swearing, but the thought of Crowley in that getup was causing all the blood in his body to rush to his groin, and he was completely awash with need and desire. 

At the profanity, the demon slammed the angel against a wall, eliciting a cry from Aziraphale. Crowley pressed himself against Aziraphale, slipping a thigh in between the angel’s legs and pressing against his growing erection. Aziraphale's hips bucked in response at the contact, rolling his shaft against Crowley's legs. He wanted this, the angel really wanted this but…

“My coat…it will…oh, oh God, yes Crowley…but my coat will…mmm, get dirty,” Aziraphale panted. 

“I don’t care,” hissed Crowley, as he sucked at the spot just below the angel’s ear. “I’ll fix it for you, angel, shit.” And the demon rolled his hips again, and this time Aziraphale could feel Crowley's hardness pressing into his thigh. The feeling nearly brought tears to the angel’s eyes, who moaned into the sensations. 

Aziraphale wasn’t sure exactly when the noises of cars whizzing down the street and the shouts of people were audible again, but suddenly the stage door behind Crowley creaked loudly. 

“Uhh…excuse me…but….five minutes till curtain call,” a tentative voice said from the door, and Crowley whirled around, looking angry at the interruption. It seemed to Aziraphale that the demon almost began to take his snake form—which would indeed have caused the poor young woman to pass out, but Crowley remained human.

“Be right there,” Crowley said between gritted teeth, and the woman went back inside. Aziraphale straightened his bowtie, and let out a heavy sigh. That was…perhaps a fortunate interruption. Who knows how far they might have…

“Don’t leave,” Crowley demanded, looking back at Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips slightly. “Would you like me to stay out here in the alley?” he asked somewhat primly. Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“No, just go back into the theater, and I’ll meet you when I’m done,” Crowley replied taking a step back.

“Right,” Aziraphale said, and tried to cool his body down. He stepped away from the wall, trying to look at the back of his coat. 

“Is it dirty?” he asked Crowley. Crowley looked him over and gently blew. 

“Oh, thank you,” Aziraphale beamed back. “See you inside then,” he said, and walked back to the theater.

…

“Shit,” Crowley hisses to himself when he realized that his erection was very, very obvious underneath his thong and robe. “Right. Hastur…Hastur…Boiling pool of Sulfur…Hastur,” he repeated this mantra for a few moments until his excitement died down and he was presentable. 

Crowley rushed to the stage, nearly missing his cue to bow, and the audience (of course) screamed in excitement. He noticed Aziraphale moving back to his spot by Anathema. 

Anathema.

He glared at the witch, who smiled guiltily in response. They would be having some words later. 

Crowley went backstage and got dressed, saying goodbye to the other performers, and removing his stage makeup. He looked himself over in a mirror before heading back out to meet Aziraphale. The glitter was mostly gone (besides a few stray sparkles here and there) and the demon looked…as he normally does. His hair was a bit shaggy, and he had curled it a bit for the performance. He brushed it out with his fingers, and with a little snap it was straight again. 

He walked out, and saw Aziraphale waiting for him by the exit. Satan, the angel looked good, and Crowley wanted nothing more than to take him to his loft down the street and worship him until dawn. 

Crowley steeled himself, marched up to Aziraphale. 

“Shall we go back to my place?” The demon asked. ‘Please say yes,’ he thought.

The angel took a moment, biting his lip. 

“I think we had better not,” Aziraphale finally replied. “In fact, I really think I have mucked this whole thing up rather too much—it might be better if I just say goodnight now and leave the city entirely…”

‘Shit,’ Crowley thought. 

“What about food?” Crowley said quickly. “There’s a diner over here that serves American-style breakfast all night. You’d like it.”

Aziraphale’s eyes perked up at this. “Well…I am a little peckish…”

“Of course you are,” Crowley replied, and offered the crook of his arm to Aziraphale. “Come on, it’s just down the street.”

At the diner Aziraphale ordered an omelette, a waffle, hash browns, a muffin, and sausage. Crowley ordered an espresso. They made idle small talk, until the food arrived. 

“So then,” Crowley said as Aziraphale took a bite of waffle. “What are we going to do?”

“About what, dear?” Aziraphale asked after he swallowed, and he patted his mouth with a napkin. 

“What do you mean about what, about us, obviously,” Crowley shot back a little impatiently.

Hell, the demon had missed this banter. 

Aziraphale gave him a familiar look of mild annoyance at the demon’s tone, before answering. 

“Well, I don’t believe anything has really changed, has it?” Aziraphale replied. Crowley scoffed. 

“Of course it has. What was that back there in the alley?” 

“That was…” Aziraphale paused, looking for the right word. 

“Don’t you dare say it was a mistake,” Crowley hissed, and Aziraphale gave him another, softer look.

“I wasn’t going to say that, Crowley.” Aziraphale said. “I was going to say…a slip-up. A…happy one, I grant you, but…we made a deal. And as difficult as it may be at the moment, I do think we should stick to it, as best we can.”

Crowley did not like this. He frowned and looked down at his espresso. “But why? I mean I want you, and you clearly want me. Why wait for two more months?”

…

Aziraphale was incredibly tempted to throw aside their plan completely. How could he not be, the way that Crowley looked right now, the way he danced across the stage in the burlesque show—the demon was temptation embodied. 

But Aziraphale also felt that if they gave up now, dropped everything they had been doing to build their own characters as individuals, they would simply go back to their old, unhealthy routine. When they got back together (if…they got back together, the angel reminded himself, knowing that Crowley might change his mind), Aziraphale wanted to be ready, wanted to make sure he could give Crowley whatever the demon wanted, and wouldn’t make any more foolish mistakes, like proposing too early, or losing track of time and accidentally ignoring Crowley. Their routine, where they spoke once a week, had been good for Aziraphale to keep himself grounded to reality, and he wasn’t very sure that he was ready to take it back to the next level. 

“It’s not that I don’t want you, my dear,” Aziraphale finally said sadly as he looked down at the plates of food before him. “I do want you, very much I’m afraid. But I want it to be at the right moment…I want to be sure that I’m ready, that I won’t…that I won’t muck it up again like I did before.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was frowning slightly, but attentive. “Please, dear, give me…give me just a little more time to figure it out.” Aziraphale’s heart was beating quickly in anticipation of how Crowley would react. 

The demon was still for a few moments, but eventually he sighed and slouched back in the booth. “Very well, angel,” he said reticently. “I suppose it’s only a few more months.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Thank you Crowley. Truly,” he said, and he looked back down at his food, deciding to take another bite. 

Crowley stayed slouched in the seat across from him, sighing and sipping his espresso. 

“At any rate my dear,” Aziraphale said after he swallowed some of his muffin. “Don’t you think you ought to stay here and continue your burlesque?”

Crowley squirmed at this. “I mean…I would leave all that to be with you,” the demon responded. 

“Oh, but my dear, I don’t think you should leave all that. In fact, I think it’s rather good for you to pick up a hobby like that. Plus, you’re very talented.”

“You…you think so?” the demon said, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Oh I absolutely do. You were radiant! Positively enthralling—you had the whole audience enraptured, and truly, I have never seen anything quite as…well…delicious as you did in that corset.”

Aziraphale studied Crowley’s face. It looked like the demon was trying very hard to hide a smile, and the angel could swear he saw a faint hint of blush rise into Crowley’s cheeks.

“That’s um…thank you…” was all the demon could manage to say, and Aziraphale grinned. 

“Do keep it up, my dear. You seem quite at home on stage in lingerie,” Aziraphale sipped his tea, and coughed. “Oh my, Americans don’t know how to prepare tea, do they?”

Crowley snorted. “No, but when you’re done here, there’s a place I can show you that fixes a decent cocktail. My treat.”

Aziraphale considered, but sighed. “I’m afraid I told Anathema that I would meet her back at the theater. I’m staying with her, up in Malibu.”

“Right,” Crowley grumbled. “Anathema. Going to need to have a chat with her.”

“Oh, don’t be too harsh with her, please,” Aziraphale pleaded. “I’m afraid I was rather insistent that I come along, and didn’t leave her with much of a choice.”

“You were insistent on attending a burlesque show?” Crowley laughed. Aziraphale felt his face grow hot. 

“Well, I was curious,” the angel confessed. Crowley chuckled some more, and Aziraphale turned to his food, sampling bites of everything. 

…

When Aziraphale finished eating, Crowley escorted him back to the theater to meet Anathema. Before turning the corner, however, Crowley felt a wave of emotion sweep over him, and pulled Aziraphale aside.

“I miss you,” he said, his voice wavering a little. He wasn’t trying to tempt Aziraphale into going back with him, but he felt like…he felt like he needed to have this moment together before they said goodbye again. 

Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, and bit his lip. The angel’s eyes looked wet, and his lips turned up into a sad smile. “I miss you too, Crowley,” he said, raising his hand to the hollow of Crowley’s cheek. The demon nuzzled against it affectionately, and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him in for a tight embrace. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley, and for the first time in months, the demon felt like everything was right where it should be. 

“I’m sorry my dear,” Aziraphale said at last, pulling away. “I wish…I wish I could be ready now, but I do need these next couple of months.”

Crowley nodded, feeling a prickling lump in his throat. “I know,” he croaked. “It’s alright, Angel.”

“Shall I…call you next week then?” Aziraphale asked hopefully. 

Crowley nodded, unable to vocalize anything else. 

“Very well then, dear,” Aziraphale said, squeezing the demon’s hand. “Goodbye for now. I…I love you, Crowley.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale back, and brushed his lips against the angel’s for a soft, tender kiss. He then moved up to whisper in Aziraphale’s ear.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually a very difficult chapter to write, so I hope it works out alright. I want nothing more than these two dorks to get it on, but I also want them to be completely ready, and I don't think they're quite there...yet.
> 
> But I do think the image of Crowley in lingerie is going to give Aziraphale plenty to think about over the next few months....
> 
> Also, I now have a twitter account for my fanfic: @stormsonjupiter 
> 
> If you're on twitter and you want to talk fanfic, Good Omens in general, or just yell at me for the lack of smut in this chapter, I'm there ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale have parted ways, and each have their own way of...handling it...(pun intended)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all have been so patient, so here is just a little bit of smut. 
> 
> And more Crowley in lingerie.

Crowley meandered back to his loft, walking as slowly as he could. At one point, he nearly turned back to chase after Aziraphale, but he stopped himself. “No bloody point,” he mumbled, and he intentionally kicked an empty soda can into the street at a passing car. The can struck the car’s tire and ricocheted back, hitting him in the leg. 

“Ow! Bastard!” he yelped at the can, wincing at the welt that was forming on his calf beneath his tight jeans. Gritting his teeth, Crowley continued his saunter—now more of a limp—back to his loft. 

Once there, he removed his jeans, sat on his bed, and healed his leg, making sure it looked smooth and pristine. 

“Ass-Modeus can’t have an injury—what will the fans think?” Crowley said to himself, stroking his fingers up his calf, his knee, and resting it delicately on his thigh. 

He sighed. He drummed his fingers. He thought about turning on the television or pouring himself a drink, but neither of those things were what he really wanted to do—which was, of course, Aziraphale. 

With a snap Crowley was completely naked, and he wondered briefly if there might be a way to incorporate that trick into his burlesque act. He climbed into bed, sliding underneath his soft satin sheets, and feeling the weight of his down comforter on top. He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Aziraphale—the way his hair shone in the lamplight, the way he gasped as Crowley grabbed his ass in the alley, the way his cock twitched against Crowley’s thigh…

Crowley moaned pitifully. His cock was growing hard while his mind replayed their alleyway encounter, and he rolled over, pushing a pillow underneath him, and rutted into it. While his hand would normally do the trick, tonight he needed to feel softness against him. 

After a few desperate thrusts, the demon whined, and slammed a fist atop the mattress in irritation. Crowley looked up, glanced to his bedside table and noticed his phone. He grabbed it, typed out a text, deleted it, typed out another text, deleted that one, took a picture of his dick and nearly pressed send, but ultimately deleted that as well and tossed his phone to the other side of the room, where it landed unharmed on a thick shag throw rug. 

Giving up on sending a desperate text to the angel, Crowley thrust his hand beneath the sheets, finding his erection. With a hiss he encircled it and he began to stroke himself vigorously in attempt to make quick work of it. His eyes were shut tight, and his breathing became uneasy. 

He imagined the angel saying fuck, pulling his hair, and moaning into his lips. He imagined that the stage door never opened, that they were not interrupted in the alleyway. Had they continued, the demon would have slid his fingers underneath Aziraphale’s trousers, feeling how hard the angel was. Once he heard the angel gasp in surprised ecstasy, the demon would have dropped to his knees, mucking up his fancy robe on the dirty asphalt, and taken Aziraphale wholly into his mouth.

The thought made his hips buck, and soon his machinations were a little smoother as precum trickled out of his cock's slit. 

He imagined sliding Aziraphale into his mouth and taking him all the way in, until the angel’s dick was practically down his throat. He imagined bobbing his head back and forth, hearing the angel’s breathy stammers of, “oh, yes Crowley,” and “please,” and “don’t stop!” He imagined Aziraphale combing his fingers through Crowley’s hair gently tugging on it to encourage the demon to move faster and faster. He imagined swirling his tongue up the underside of the shaft, and listening to Aziraphale yelp with pleasure as he hallowed his cheeks ever so slightly. 

His hands would have been clutching Aziraphale’s ass—still clothed, and tense. Over fabric he would have squeezed the muscle, pushing and pulling with the rhythm his mouth set. He would work at the cleft, dragging his fingers up and down while he continued to suck on Aziraphale. 

While he imagined these things, his fist worked faster and faster, and his whole body tightened. His toes curled, and his other hand clutched desperately at the silk sheets. Pleasure began to work its way through his abdomen, and his cock was pulsing with need. 

“Oh, Aziraphale, Fuck,” he moaned, as he imagined the angel coming in his mouth, celestial spendings shooting down his throat as he swallowed. At the thought of Aziraphale orgasming, Crowley himself came in hot, sticky spurts that covered his hand and sullied his sheets. 

He opened his eyes when it was over, and miracled the mess away immediately. It was fast—as he had intended—and it left him feeling somewhat better, but deep down he knew that he wouldn’t be truly satisfied until Aziraphale was naked in his arms again.

…

Aziraphale went back to Malibu with Anathema and Newt, who were both apologetic. 

“I daresay you will be hearing about it from Crowley,” Aziraphale warned, and Anathema paled. “Oh, I don’t think he will do you any real harm—he likes you after all—but you may find you have a flat tire or something like that in the next week or so.” Crowley said, trying to ease his host somewhat. 

“But are things…alright with you now?” she asked as they pulled up to her driveway. 

“Well, there are certainly as good as they can be, for the moment,” Aziraphale said vaguely, somewhat avoiding the subject. 

Anathema nodded, saying no more about it. 

Aziraphale went to bed in a spare room—it was comfortable, though sparsely decorated (for his taste, anyway). He looked about for his phone and considered calling Crowley, but thought better of it. They would need some time to process everything, and the temptation to see him was still there. 

He relaxed into the bed, wearing a pair of soft pajamas. The bed was plush, and he enjoyed the feeling of sinking into the mattress. Maybe he really should get a bed for the bookshop, he thought to himself... or for the cottage at South Downs.

He closed his eyes, thinking immediately of Crowley--the way he looked tonight was utterly beguiling—his hair, his legs, his corset. 

“Oh—“ Aziraphale said softly, as he felt warmth build in his lower abdomen. He opened his eyes and looked around—but of course everyone was asleep, and he was the only person on the first floor. He swallowed nervously and considered his options. Either he could lie awake, pining after Crowley; he could try to sleep, which was going to be incredibly difficult in his current state, or he could… 

‘But it would be wrong,’ the angel thought to himself. ‘I am a guest here. Surely that would be breaking some kind of rule.”

But the more he tried to convince himself otherwise, the harder he became, until finally masturbation really seemed like the only logical course of action.

Better he take care of it himself and clean it up now than have a wet dream and clean it up later, he told himself. 

He slid his hands down over his pajamas, feeling that they were tented. Moaning, he then slid his hand beneath elastic, encircled his hard member, and freed his hard member.

“Oh Crowleyyy,” he purred as he began to stroke himself. He thought about the way Crowley looked tonight, on the stage in the corset. How he wished the demon was there now, in the same corset, dancing for him and him alone. Aziraphale’s hips began to gyrate and he miracled a little lubricant to make his hand twirl around his shaft with greater ease. 

His other hand absentmindedly trailed up his chest, underneath his pajamas, until his fingers found that his nipples had hardened. He pressed one and pinched it slightly, gasping at the sharp sensation. The hand around his shaft was pumping more vigorously now, as he breathed harder and harder. 

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned again as he thought about Crowley in the thong, wondering what the garment looked like when Crowley had an erection. He thought about sliding the small slip of fabric to the side, and working inside the demon until Crowley was open enough to receive Aziraphale’s turgid shaft. 

Pinching himself on the nipple again, Aziraphale thought about sliding himself inside the thong-wearing demon, working in him until Crowley came, spilling his seed through the snakeskin fabric. 

“Oh, oh Crowley,” he rasped one last time as his own orgasm overtook him, showering him with pleasure as he shot his load all over his hand and pajamas. 

When his wits returned to him, he felt a little embarrassed—this was, after all, someone else’s house. He quickly miracled the mess away, sighing with relief once it was gone, and turned on his side. 

“I miss you, my dear,” he hummed to himself, as his lids grew heavy and he fell into a deep sleep.

Almost a week later Aziraphale was back in London, examining the second book of prophesy. He and Ms. Device (Anathema's mother) had arranged to call one another in the next month with any updates they had on deciphering the entries, and he did think he was making some headway (it seemed like some of the predictions had already occurred). 

He checked his pocket watch. It was 9:45 AM, and this was going to be the first day he and Crowley spoke to one another since meeting in LA, and Aziraphale was nervous. He worried that the meeting had ruined the arrangement that he and the demon had between the two of them. He knew that Crowley had wanted to spend more time together, to call the whole thing off, and there was a nagging part of him that imagined the demon was tired of him, tired of the arrangement, and ready to move on. 

He knew it was still nighttime in LA, but he decided to send a textual message (he was still calling them this) to Crowley anyways:

“Hello Crowley,

Good morning my dear…or perhaps I ought to say good night. I want you to know I am able to talk to you at any time today, so whenever you are ready, I would love to hear from you. I do hope you had a lovely week. 

Yours,

Aziraphale"

He sent the message, and on impulse sent the following Post Script:

“P.S. I have been thinking of you in your lingerie a great deal over the last week. You are quite the temptation.”

He stared at his phone for a few moments after sending it. He normally planned out his textual messages with more care, and he fretted for a moment that this was not the right decision.

He sighed, however, realizing that it was too late anyways—the message was off, and Crowley would see it. 

He went back to the book of prophesy, and studied a few more entries. Time went on, and at around 11:00 he opened up a tin of biscuits and heated up the kettle for tea. At around 12:00 he made himself a sandwich, trying not to look at his phone or fret over Crowley. At 2:00 he poured himself some more tea, and after noting that he’d already eaten most of the biscuits this morning, opted not to have another snack.

“It’s still morning in LA,” he told himself after he drained the last of his tea. “Crowley is probably still asleep.”

He sighed, and puttered about the shop, placing books onto shelves and pulling others out. No customers had come in today, and the quiet normally would have been more than acceptable to Aziraphale, but today he would have welcomed the distraction. 

Finally, around 5:00, he walked over to his phone, and picked it up, and considered calling. 

“You can just say that you want to…make sure he’s alright. Nothing more than that. Just a simple, ‘Hello Crowley, don’t mean to bother, just want to make sure everything is tickety—‘“

His soliloquy was cut short by the phone’s vibration. With uneven breath he unlocked the screen, and peered at the message.

“Hi, Angel. Glad you liked the lingerie—but that was nothing compared to what I got for my next number. Care to see?”

Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat. He wondered at the demon sending a textual message rather than calling him, but Aziraphale wasted no time in responding. 

“My Dear Crowley,

I would very much love to see whatever it is you wish to show me.

Yours,

Aziraphale.”

He sat down, his heart racing, and he stared at his phone with anticipation.

The phone vibrated. He tapped on the message. 

And…oh Lord, Aziraphale clutched his chest and felt his face get hot.

Crowley’s look was red…and shiny…and a little glittery….and there was definitely a pair of devil horns.

…

(A few days earlier)

After Aziraphale had left LA, Crowley heard from Isabel, telling him he needed to come up with a new number for the following month. Crowley considered spending the time pining after Aziraphale and staying in bed, but he eventually decided that shopping for lingerie and choreographing a new routine would make time feel like it passed by more quickly. 

He also was ignoring Anathema’s apologetic calls and texts. He knew eventually he would speak to her again, but not yet. Let her fret over it first—sneaking Aziraphale into the theater like that without so much as a warning was really not something that should be rewarded.

So he worked on his routine.

He settled on a remixed version of Queen’s “The Show Must Go On” (in spite of Isabel telling him he needed to diversify his music choices). 

He also decided, upon his trip to a goth lingerie store, that a satin devil costume was perfect. 

He may have been upset, deep down, that he and Aziraphale were still apart. But he was a still a demon, and in that sense, the show must go on. 

The outfit was provocative, and the woman working at the store nearly fainted when he waltzed out of the dressing room wearing part of it. It had a red bra, that was pointed in a 1950’s fashion, with glittery straps. There was no corset, but there was a high-waisted, red satin garter belt, that had glittery devil horns on the front, and a forked tail on the back. The thong—which he would have to try on after purchasing—was also red satin.

It also came with a matching devil horn headband.

Crowley purchased the outfit, along with stockings with a red seam, and red platform heels. He also opted to get a long red robe with a hood, which he thought would be excellent for a reveal.

When he got home, he spent several hours trying to take the perfect photo of himself in the getup. He tried a mirror selfie and a down-angle, but realized that to get the full effect, he was going to need to situate the phone on a shelf and set the photo timer. After multiple poses and multiple attempts, he finally decided on a picture with his back facing the camera, revealing the little tail, while he looked coyly over his shoulder at the camera. His legs looked long, and the heels helped really sell the image. He also decided to find a good filter—one that said, “look at what you’re missing, angel,” and he smiled when he found one that almost made it look like he was lit by flames. 

“Perfect,” he said, and saved the photo for the day when Aziraphale would call.

When the day arrived, he slept in rather late, as was his wont. Groggily he picked up his phone and saw that Aziraphale sent him a text. With his voice still raspy from the morning, he replied with a text of his own, tempting the angel with a photograph. 

When the angel replied that he would love to see it, Crowley sent him the photo--the one he staged and edited perfectly.

After sending it, he waited, heart pounding, for Aziraphale’s response. 

It only took about a minute. His phone vibrated, and he answered it.

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley! My dear you look—“

“Devilish?”

“Very. Though I was going to say tempting.”

Crowley smiled. 

“And is that for your new burlesque routine.”

“It is.”

“Well, it’s very…I’m sure the crowd will love it. Only…only I didn’t see the front of it I’m afraid, and I would rather like to get the whole effect. Would you mind terribly sending another photo?”

'That greedy bastard,' Crowley thought, as he sat up and began scrolling through his hundreds of selfie attempts. 

“Yeah, one moment Angel, let me call you right back,” he said, hanging up. 

“Damnit,” Crowley muttered, until he finally settled on a photo that was a bit off-center, but did show the front of his lingerie. He cropped it, filtered it, sent it to Aziraphale, and after a moment called him back.

“Did…uh…did you get it?”

“I did my dear. You look positively sinful. And I do mean that in the best way possible.”

Crowley grinned and leaned back. “Good.”

“I must say,” Aziraphale said breathily. “It is, ah, inspiring my…well…the thought of you in it is making me…”

“You’re horny for the horns?” Crowley said, immediately regretting it, but thankfully Aziraphale chuckled.

“You might say that.”

Crowley’s cock began to stiffen at the thought. “Are you touching yourself, Angel?” He asked.

“I am…” Aziraphale said. “Are…are you?”

“Well, now I am,” Crowley said as his hand traveled to his shaft. 

“Oh and are you…are you hard?” The angel asked, somewhat out of breath. 

“Getting there, Angel,” Crowley said. 

“Would…ah…would you mind terribly…sending me a photo of your…ah…member…in your lingerie? I am so very interested to see it…..”

Bullocks. Of course the angel would want to see that. And no, Crowley didn’t have the forethought to take a photo of his hard dick in the red satin thong.

He groaned, eyes glancing over to the chair on which his new lingerie was piled. He was going to have to stage a very fast, impromptu, dick pic photo shoot.

“Hang on angel….let me call you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this was posted later than normal. I've had a pretty wretched couple of days health-wise (my body just decided to fall apart all at once) so it took a while for me to proofread. 
> 
> Thanks again for all your support and comments. It really makes me happy to know that you're enjoying it. 
> 
> And I can assure you, next chapter update will *definitely* have some phone sex.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale really likes Crowley's devil lingerie. 
> 
> The two of them also begin to get into a new rhythm since seeing one another in LA.

It took a few minutes, but Crowley put the devil lingerie back on—even the high heels and horn headband, just in case Aziraphale wanted a picture of those as well. 

He reclined back down into his soft bed, and saw that his erection had softened a bit, so before taking a picture, he palmed himself, thinking about a masturbating Aziraphale. 

He groaned. 

After a minute or so, Crowley was completely hard again, and he noted the massive bulge beneath the red satin thong, the fabric pulling at the sides and revealing just a hint of the base of his shaft. He turned on the bedside lamp for lighting, and photographed it for Aziraphale. 

Crowley waited for a moment and soon Aziraphale was calling him back

“Well, Angel, what do you think?” he asked.

“Oh, oh Crowley, it’s…ah…so good…so good…” Aziraphale panted.

Holy hell, Aziraphale was really turned on. Crowley grinned and clicked his tongue. 

“Careful now, don’t want you to come too quickly,” Crowley warned. “Wouldn’t be very angelic of you to leave me behind.” Crowley began palming himself more quickly. 

“Oh—okay, Cr—Crowley,” the angel stuttered. “But it is…I am…oh God…it is going to be rather tricky—“

“How about I tell you a story?” Crowley offered, as he moved the thong aside and freed his hard cock, the head already glistening with precum. 

“Is it a…ah…a long one?”

“I’ll make it quick,” Crowley replied, and there was a receptive groan on the other end of the line.

…

Aziraphale had not anticipated how much the sight of Crowley’s erection covered by red satin lingerie would be a turn on. He nearly came on the spot when he looked at the lewd photograph on his mobile telephone. 

The sight of Crowley in lingerie at the burlesque show had been incredibly erotic, but this was another level. The thought of Crowley wearing devil lingerie—for him alone at the moment—and touching himself in that lingerie—was almost too much for the poor angel’s corporeal form to handle. He had to squeeze at the bottom of his shaft to prevent himself from shooting his spendings right away. 

“Yes, dear, I would v-very much like to hear your story,” he said, his eyes squeezed shut and his head resting against the couch’s backrest. 

“Do you remember when we saw Hamlet? When we exchanged miracles and you went to Scotland and I made the play a success?”

Aziraphale’s mind flashed to that day—the empty audience at the Globe, the grapes, the way Crowley sauntered in and encircled him, looking like an Elizabethan Lothario with his black velvet and long wavy hair. 

“I remember, yes. That was very nice of you—“

“Shut it, Angel. I’m not done talking.”

Aziraphale moaned at Crowley’s domineering tone. He would have to remember to call him 'nice' more often. 

“Well, after the first performance to a packed house, when you were up in Scotland, Shakespeare came up to me, asking after you.”

“Me?” Aziraphale said. “Why, what—“

“Oh, he wanted to celebrate…with you. Wanted to take you backstage and suck you off, I believe.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped. This wasn’t exactly what the angel had in mind for a story. He didn’t really want to think of himself with another man (although, he was a bit flattered).

“Well, who wouldn’t want to? The way you wore that brocade doublet, fuck angel, you looked like some sort of naughty cherub just waiting to be taken.”

“Oh…Crowley…” Aziraphale purred, and he let his fingers begin to flutter up and down the underside of his shaft. 

“Well, I couldn’t let that happen—I wanted you for myself, Angel, so I may have…politely…suggested that Will get his jollies elsewhere.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Politely, Crowley?”

“Well, who’s to say how polite it was, exactly. At any rate, he backed off, and left me feeling right jealous.”

“You…were?”

“Of course. How was I to know if you were fucking him…or other people for that matter? I was green with envy.”

“Oh..oh, well if it’s any consolation, I haven’t had sexual relations with anyone but you.”

“….yes, Angel. I know. But do let me continue on with the story.”

“Oh. Right my dear. Please.”

“So, there I was, jealous, alone, and very horny, so I did the only sensible thing. I went to a brothel.”

Aziraphale’s hand stopped. “Crowley!” he yelped through the phone. This was certainly not something he wanted to think about—the demon with a prostitute…

“Don’t worry Angel. I didn’t…buy….er…partake. I mean I went there with every intention of finding a prostitute, but I found that I couldn’t…that no one…that the only person I wanted was you, and no substitute would do.”

“Ohhh,” Aziraphale’s heart swelled a bit at this. It was sweet and scandalous. His hand began to stroke once more.

“So I booked a room, just for myself, in the brothel, and I thought about you, at the Globe.”

“Did you?” Aziraphale said with interest.

“Mmmm. Remember the long gown that the actor who played Ophelia wore?”

“I do, vaguely,” Aziraphale said. 

“Well, I imagined that it was just the two of us at the Globe, and I was dressed like Ophelia, wearing that long gown, and you were dressed like Hamlet. I Imagined we were rehearsing lines together, just the two of us. You rested your head on my lap, and said the line ‘That’s a fair thought to lie between a maiden’s legs,’ and I lost all control and kissed you, hard.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale muttered breathily, imagining the two of them at the Globe, alone, on stage, wearing costumes and kissing. It was an enticing image.

“I imagined you returned the kiss with equal…ah…equal fervor. And then…and then….”

Crowley’s breath was growing very ragged, and Aziraphale could tell that the demon was getting close to climax. 

But he wanted to hear the end of the story. 

“Please, dear. Do continue.”

There was a sharp breath into the phone, and a small clearing of the throat. 

“Almost…almost got off there…” Crowley said with raspy voice, and a little surprise. 

“Oh, Heaven Almighty,” Aziraphale said as pleasure surged through his own cock, precum leaking around the head. He looked down and dragged his thumb over the slit, lubricating his palm with his own slick, before gently sliding his hand down. 

“You….alright Angel?” 

“Yes…” Aziraphale said, biting his lip. “But do…do finish your story. I do think you should try and make quick work of it.” He pumped his shaft once again, letting his hips roll into it. 

Dear Lord he wanted to see Crowley in a dress.

“Well, I imagined you had me on my back, right there on the Globe stage. You were in between my maiden legs, and you let a hand travel up underneath the skirts, and find my hard cock.”

Aziraphale moaned at the thought, and his hand pumped roughly for a moment. 

“I imagined you stroking me for a bit, and then I imagined you putting your head beneath the skirts, and taking me into your perfect little mouth, and sucking me, right there on the stage.”

“Oh…oh God Crowley that’s….” Aziraphale couldn’t complete the thought. He imagined himself in between the demon’s legs, underneath layers of fabric, bobbing his head up and down. Given the right set of circumstances, the angel thought to himself, they could probably do something very much like that in public—

“Then, just before I came, I imagined you coming out from underneath the gown, and unfurling your throbbing erection. I was still on my back, looking up at you, your cock, and I imagined you moving over me and brushing my lips with the tip of your member, and I opening up and receiving you in my mouth.”

Aziraphale let out a deep, guttural moan at this. His hand was now pumping very quickly, and his breath was shallow. His other hand clutched the cushion so hard that his knuckles were white.

“I imagined you thrusting into my mouth, really fucking my face…oh shit…mmm…and…and before you came, I imagined you lifting up my skirts and taking me back in your mouth…so that…so that…oh fuck…so that we were…sucking one another off…on the Globe stage…at the same…time…”

“Ohh,” was all Aziraphale could say in response. The white hot euphoria had built up to a plateau, and the images of them orally pleasuring one another on the Globe stage combined with the increasingly breathy narration of the demon (who was very clearly almost ready to orgasm), was making Aziraphale’s whole body pulse with want. 

The two of them panted wantonly into the phone, listening to the other's lusty breaths and moans. 

“I want you so bad,” Crowley said after a minute, with a raspy desperation. “I want you…in my mouth…oh fuck Aziraphale…”

“Yes, my dear, yes, oh I want…I want that too…ah…” The thought was almost enough to cause an eruption. His cock was ragingly hard, covered in precum, and ready to burst with spendings as his hand pumped faster and faster.

“Oh, Angel, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…I’m gonna….Ahh” Crowley groaned into the phone, and the thought of the demon orgasming sent Aziraphale over the edge. 

“Oh, yes my dear, oh yes…so good…so good,” Aziraphale moaned as wave after wave of pleasure overtook him, his hips thrusting in time with the surges of cum that came squirting forth, landing all over his hand, his couch, his trousers.

He let the orgasm overtake him, his eyes shut tight and his chest tight. With one final shudder, he opened his eyes, and took note of the mess he made. 

“Ah, dammit,” he heard on the other end of the line. 

“My dear…what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked, suddenly concerned.

“I came all over my new lingerie. It’s now totally soiled.”

…

Crowley, of course, was sure to magically ensure that the lingerie was good as new for his next performance, and over the next couple of weeks, he worked hard on his new number, telling Aziraphale all about it with excitement. The angel listened attentively, and praised Crowley’s hard work, and reassured the demon that he was going to be absolutely wonderful. 

Crowley also during this time, finally decided to stop ignoring Anathema. They met midday at a breakfast place in Downtown LA. Crowley had beat her to the spot, and was reading a paper idly while she entered. 

“Hello,” she said taking a seat. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“I suppose it was going to happen eventually,” Crowley said dryly, turning the page.

A waitress came and took their order. Anathema asked for a coffee. Crowley already had his, and ordered nothing else.

After the waitress left, Anathema looked earnestly at Crowley. “Look, I’m really…really sorry I didn’t warn you beforehand. I thought…hoped…that he wouldn’t come to the show, and when he did I hoped…you wouldn’t see him.”

“Your seats were right in the front,” Crowley said, still looking at the paper. “Of course I was going to see you.”

“Well, at any rate. I am really sorry. And I hope…I hope it didn’t ruin things between you two.”

Crowley stopped looking over the paper, and glanced up at Anathema. 

“Oh no,” she said with worry. “Did it? Ruin things?”

Crowley sighed, folded the paper, and put it down. 

“It did not,” the demon admitted. “It perhaps had the opposite effect.”

“Really?” Anathema beamed. “So things are…”

“Yes, yes, they’re good," Crowley said rolling his eyes. "Now that Aziraphale knows about my burlesque identity we can finally talk again. Like before. I’m not…hiding this from him…and he’s not hiding things about that blasted book of your ancestor from me.”

“So he’s…a fan then. Of Ass-Modeus.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” The demon retorted, and Anathema laughed a little. “I’ve shown him my costume for my upcoming number, and he…approved.”

“That’s good then,” Anathema said. “Will he be coming back to see you perform it?”

Crowley frowned. He actually did want Aziraphale to watch him, but that would still be breaking the rules of their new arrangement. “Ehh, I don’t think so,” he said, trying to mask his disappointment. “Not this next performance anyways. Maybe…maybe if I do this number again…later…”

Anathema nodded, giving him a little look but saying nothing. 

“Well, I am glad this all worked out,” she said. “But again, I am sorry for not warning you. And if there’s any way I can make it up to you…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Crowley said, picking up the newspaper again and began perusing it. 

Just then, the waitress then came back, empty-handed and with a very apologetic and confused look on her face. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said to Anathema, “but…it appears that we’ve…run out of coffee…”

Anathema looked at Crowley. Crowley didn’t look up from his paper, but upon feeling her gaze upon him, he smiled wryly. 

…

Aziraphale during this time, had begun to split his time between London and the cottage in South Downs. He brought several of his favorite books there, and on sunny days he read on a bench in the garden. When weather was stormy, he’d nestle up on a couch inside, sipping hot cocoa underneath a warm blanket. 

Some evenings, Tracy and Shadwell would come over, and the three of them would enjoy a warm meal. Tracy enjoyed cooking and sharing her food with the men in her life, and she even showed Aziraphale how to make a few hearty dishes. 

There was a calmness about the place that Aziraphale realized was missing from his bookshop in Soho. It soothed the angel. He missed Crowley a great deal, but being in the cottage made him feel like Crowley was just around the corner. There was no hustle and bustle of busy London streets, no customers calling and pestering. Just a quiet calmness, and the hopeful promise of Crowley. 

He didn’t tell the demon that he had purchased the house, thinking that it might put too much pressure on him. They still had a couple of months to go, and Aziraphale thought the cottage might be a nice surprise…if Crowley decided to come back to him. If not….well then the demon would never have to know. 

Aziraphale tried not to fret about this. He had to have faith that everything would turn out alright....in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again everyone for continuing to read! I am currently in the process of deciding how much more I want to continue. We are getting to the end of this long distance part, but there are a few ways I can keep the story going if there is interest, so do let me know what you think in the comments below.
> 
> Also, this story reached 10K hits last week, and I am completely overwhelmed. To thank you all for your support and subscriptions, I have been working on a short, very smutty one-shot, that I will publish sometime this week separately. (It isn't part of this story's universe, but it does of course feature Aziraphale and Crowley).
> 
> I'll give you two words as a preview: glory hole.
> 
> Lastly, thank you for following me on twitter! It's been a pretty big week there, and I'd love to be able to chat with more of you there! I'm @stormsonjupiter


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley performs his burlesque number and gets some interesting news. 
> 
> Aziraphale realizes he will need to make a choice about the bookshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay! Health issues plus holiday meant no time for fanfic writing. 
> 
> Also, warning, no smut this chapter! But there is burlesque Crowley, so I hope you enjoy.

Crowley had gained quite a bit of popularity in the burlesque scene—his power of temptation giving a boost to his sultry and charismatic performances. He was a natural, and he was growing quite a fan base, even though he had only done a couple of performances.

His next performance was slightly more comical than the previous numbers, though still incredibly sensual. He walked out on stage to the remix of The Show Must Go On, wearing his devil horns, a long flowing red robe, and carrying a pitchfork. He used the pitchfork as a prop, pointing it at the audience, grinding against it, stroking it slowly, sliding his tongue up the rod, and using it to slip his robe from his shoulders to reveal his devilish lingerie underneath. 

He was particularly proud of the way he exaggerated his natural saunter to make his devil tail wave from side-to-side to the beat of the music.

When he was finished stripping—wearing only a red thong—the audience went wild, giving him a standing ovation (which was rather rare in this scene). He smiled and sauntered off stage, where the other dancers had gathered around, and congratulated him on another stunning performance. 

After the show, Isabel introduced him to a woman who was putting on a burlesque show in London. 

“Would you at all be interested in heading back to England to perform?” The woman asked. 

“Possibly,” Crowley said. “When, exactly?”

She told him the date. It was the same day that he and Aziraphale had agreed to meet in South Downs. 

Crowley said he would have to think about it, and the woman handed him her contact information, as well as information about the show. 

Crowley thought about this as he walked home. He was obviously not going to do this instead of meeting with Aziraphale, but he did wonder if it were possible to do both. 

Perhaps he had better talk to the angel about this.

….

During this time, Aziraphale preoccupied himself both with settling down in the cottage and fussing over the book of prophesy. He and Anathema’s mother, Ms. Device, had been corresponding regularly (by textual message primarily, a fact of which Aziraphale was most proud). 

While Aziraphale did not give up the bookshop, he did find that he was spending nearly all his time at the cottage. His books had effectively taken over the office, and were beginning to spill out in other parts of the house. Aziraphale, being a little absent-minded and a tad messy when it came to his books, didn’t notice anything until Tracy came over for tea one afternoon. 

“Well, it looks like you have settled in quite nicely,” she said as she sipped her Earl Grey. 

“Does it?” Aziraphale asked, looking around. 

“It does, love. Look at all these books!” she points to a couple of stacks in the living room and kitchen areas. “I can’t imagine you’ve read all of them since arriving.”

“Oh, well,” Aziraphale felt a bit embarrassed by this. “Not all of them, I suppose. Most of these here are for research.”

“I see,” Tracy said. “And are you planning on leaving your bookshop? Or moving it down here perhaps?”

Aziraphale thought over this. He hadn’t planned on giving up his bookshop—the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, though he did have to admit to himself, he felt like spending less and less time there. 

But then again, where would all his books fit? They certainly wouldn’t all fit in the cottage. 

“Well, now that you mention it, I do suppose I have been spending very little time in London. But I don’t think I could give up my bookshop entirely—and there is no way all those books would fit in here. But, it is something to think on.”

“You could always sell the extra books,” Tracy suggested, but Aziraphale was appalled and dropped his jaw at this. Tracy blinked innocently and took another sip of tea. “It was just a suggestion, dear.”

Later that evening, he called Crowley. The demon answered, his voice groggy. 

“I’m sorry my dear, did I wake you?” Aziraphale asked with a small smile. The thought of Crowley in bed, his hair messy and squinting through sleep-laden eyelids was endearing. 

“Mmmm, you did,” there was a long, drawn out yawn at this. “But s’alright angel. I can…be awake.” There was another yawn at the word ‘awake.’

Aziraphale chuckled softly at this. “I can let you go if you prefer, and you can call me back when you’re more awake—“

“No, no. I’m up. Promise,” his voice was still groggy but more alert. 

“And how are you then, my dear? Was your performance another rousing success?”

“It was,” Crowley replied. “I’m very popular.”

“I’m sure you are. I can only imagine what it’s like seeing that lingerie in person. I’m sure you were absolutely breathtaking on stage.”

“Hmmm,” Crowley grumbles back in response. The two sit for a moment in silence, Aziraphale trying to figure out a way to discuss the shop without talking about buying the cottage, when Crowley breaks the silence. 

“Look, Aziraphale, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

This sounded serious, and Aziraphale’s heart skipped a beat.

“O-oh? And what’s that?”

“It’s our…arrangement. Well, more specifically, the date we were going to meet up again.”

At this, Aziraphale worry turned to mild annoyance. 

“Crowley. Did you forget the date we agreed upon?” 

“What? No, no, nothing like that,” Crowley replied. 

“Oh! Well,” Aziraphale’s mind wandered for a moment. “What is it?”

“Well, you see, I’ve been asked to perform burlesque in London.”

“Really? How exciting. An international debut. Congratulations Crowley!” Aziraphale replied with a beaming smile.

“Right, well, the thing is…the performance is to take place on the same day as our meet up.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale replied, crestfallen. “So, you’d probably wish to delay when we meet.” He couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that he would have to wait and surprise Crowley with the cottage, even though he was happy for the demon.

“You know what? Ahh, it’s…it’s fine. I won’t do it. Much rather meet with you anyways.”

“But my dear…”

“No, no, shouldn’t have even mentioned anything.”

“Crowley…”

“Look, it’s alright. It’s just a stupid performance. There’ll be more in the future.”

“But I want you t—“

“No. It’s alright. I promise it’s alright.”

Aziraphale sighed, regretting that he didn’t monitor his tone more closely. But it seemed now the demon’s mind was made up. 

After a moment of silence, Aziraphale spoke up again. 

“But if the performance were on a different day…you’d do it?”

There was a pause. “I…probably…” Crowley squeaked. Aziraphale knew that tone. He was trying to sound noncommittal, but the angel knew that the demon would love to perform in London. 

“Well then, my dear. We had better hope that another chance for you to perform in London arrives very soon.”

The two stayed on the phone with each other for a few more minutes. There was no phone sex—Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley was interested in it, and the angel’s mind was far too preoccupied. 

When they hung up, Aziraphale was sure of two things. 

The first, that Crowley was planning on meeting him on their agreed upon date. He had still been mildly worried that the demon wouldn’t arrive, and their conversation seemed to relieve his worries. 

The second was that he was going to need to find out a little more information about London’s burlesque scene. 

…

Later that day, Crowley met up with Isabel and Anathema for a late lunch. Crowley didn’t eat anything, as usual, but the other two enjoyed some tacos. 

“So, did you decide on performing in London? I bet they’d love that devil number you came up with,” Isabel said with a mouthful of carne asada. 

“Decided not to. Not a good day for me, really. Maybe next time.” Crowley said tersely.

“Oh…well that’s a shame,” Isabel said. 

Anathema opened her mouth to say something, but a buzzing noise indicated that she was getting a phone call. She looked at the number and scrunched up her face in confusion. 

“Excuse me I…I have to take this,” She said, as she stood up and answered.

Crowley watched as she went outside of the restaurant. 

“Her boyfriend?” He asked Isabel. 

She shrugged. “Who else?”

“So then. Should we discuss my routine for next month?” Crowley asked.

“Ah…about that…” Isabel looked down. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I learned, today, that the theater we perform at is….closing. Owners can’t afford it and are putting it on the market. They won’t be able to afford to keep any staff or anything.”

“WHAT?” Crowley growled. Isabel nodded forlornly. 

Anathema returned, asking what she missed, and Isabel informed her. 

“I don’t suppose your mother would be interested in buying out an old theater in Downtown LA?” Isabel asked, and Anathema shook her head no. 

Crowley said nothing during this whole exchange, but his mind went deeper and deeper in thought. The conversation moved on without him, and after about fifteen minutes he abruptly stood up. 

“You alright Crowley?” Isabel asked. 

“Fine. Have things to do. Talk later,” he said, and he left the restaurant. 

He was angry that the theater was going to close. He wasn’t exactly sure how, but somehow, he knew he was going to get involved. 

He was going to buy the theater himself, and turn it into a proper burlesque club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading along! I hope you enjoyed it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley buys a club in LA, and Aziraphale worries that Crowley's new life will leave the angel behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, is it soft pining hours?
> 
> IT'S SOFT PINING HOURS.

Buying a club, or any major real estate, in Los Angeles is difficult. It’s expensive. There are people who have to look at the building for various reasons, tons of papers to sign, sometimes government agencies have to get involved and approvals must be dealt with through city council, and it can take months (years, even)….

…unless you’re a very, very determined demon. Then, all it took was some magic (well...a good bit of magic), a few well-placed temptations and some mysteriously misplaced funds from greedy billionaires who didn’t need the money anyways, and voila.

The club is yours.

Two days after Crowley had put in mind that he would be buying the club, he was walking around the space, keys in hand. It was a nice size, the stage was old and big, and there were plenty of tables and chairs. The bar area in the back was large enough to hold several bartenders, but unfortunately the former owners left with all the alcohol. 

Crowley called Isabel and Anathema over, to help him look over the space. Isabel, not knowing Crowley was a demon, was completely shocked by the turn of events. 

"I had no idea you were that wealthy," Isabel said in surprise. "I mean, I knew you had some money, but still...must be a nice trust fund you have."

Anathema pursed her lips and side-eyed Crowley, but did congratulate him on his new purchase. 

“I’ll be needing some people to run the place. I expect that you lot know more about running burlesque clubs and the like than I do,” Crowley said. 

“Are you…offering me a job?” Isabel asked.

“If you want it,” Crowley said mildly. “I’ll pay you whatever you need. More if you turn it into a success. Less if it’s a total failure.” 

Isabel’s jaw dropped. “I accept,” she said, and she immediately began surveying the place, taking notes for things she would change, and compiling a list of people she knew—bartenders, waiters, tech crew and artists, who she could convince to join them. 

“And you?” Crowley asked, turning to Anathema.

“I’ll help,” Anathema said. “But I’m not taking your money.”

“Why not?”

She raised an eyebrow, and looked him up and down. “I think you know. Demon.”

Crowley laughed at this.

The rest of the day was spent figuring out how to turn the club into Crowley's vision--a burlesque club, with weekly performances. It would have to be a regular bar most of the rest of the time, but with the right ambience, a good selection of alcohol, and decent music, (along with some demonic interventions) the three of them were sure that they could make it a success. 

Of course, there was the issue of the name. 

"Temptations," Crowley said, but both Anathema and Isabel reacted negatively. 

"That sounds like some sort of daytime soap opera," Isabel said.

They went through a few ideas, until they finally agreed upon Serpent and Apple. 

"That will have lots of possibilities for themes and aesthetics," Isabel said, and began verbally suggesting logo designs.

"So," Anathema said as they left at the end of the day. "What has your boyfriend said to this?"

Crowley cleared his throat. 

"I...haven't told him yet," he admitted. 

Anathema raised her eyebrows. "You...really should."

"Yes," Crowley agreed. "I suppose you're right."

…

It took a little time and a few phone calls to Anathema and others, but Aziraphale’s plan with the London burlesque scene finally came to fruition. 

Now all he had to do was….

wait for Crowley to arrive. 

He cleaned the cottage, and wasted a few frivolous miracles on creating several more bookshelves. Even with the new storage space, the cottage was already seemingly overwhelmed with books. 

Aziraphale desperately hoped Crowley wouldn’t notice…or if he did notice, that he wouldn’t mind. 

A week before their agreed upon meet up, Aziraphale called Crowley for their last long-distance conversation. 

“Hi Angel,” Crowley said, sounding surprisingly awake for what Aziraphale knew was an early hour in California. 

“Hello my dear!” Aziraphale replied with excitement. “My! You’re up early.”

“Yeah, had things to do,” he said vaguely. Aziraphale wondered at this, but didn’t pry. 

“Well, Crowley, I….I very much look forward to seeing you next week,” Aziraphale said, feeling a little teary-eyed all of a sudden. “I can’t tell you what these past few months have been like, but I do think I….I’m ready to be…more attentive to you. I want to be.”

There was a pause at this, and Aziraphale wondered if Crowley heard him. But just before he could ask, the demon replied, stuttering “Oh, Angel, I…You are…I’m so lu—“ there was suddenly a loud noise on the other end, something that sounded like clanging and people shouting. Aziraphale could then hear Crowley yelling, but from a distance as though he moved his head away from the phone. 

“Oi! Be careful with that. That costs more than your car. You break it you’ll regret it!” Aziraphale then heard some rustling. “Wankers,” Crowley said with a sigh, his voice now clear once again. “Sorry about that, angel. These humans are not being careful, and they should if they know what’s good for them.”

Aziraphale’s curiosity now got the best of him. “Dearest, what…where are you? Should we perhaps talk later?”

“Yeah I’m…” there was a pause. 

“Crowley? It’s alright. You can tell me.”

“Well…I bought a club.”

“A club?!” Aziraphale repeated with shock. “What, what kind of a club? And where?”

“LA. It’s going to be a burlesque club. That is unless these bloody wankers fixing up the place break everything. Then it’ll just be a pile of rubble and bones.”

Aziraphale could imagine the scowl Crowley was giving the people there. 

“Well, my dear, perhaps if you were a little kinder to them….”

“Kinder?! This isn’t a…well a place where being kind will work. No, this lot need a careful eye and lots of threats.”

“I see,” Aziraphale said. “Couldn’t you…uh…use magic?”

“I’ve been using magic. There’s just so much to be done…plus I don’t want to spook my human operative.”

“Your human operative?”

“Yeah. She’s going to run the place for me. Doesn’t know I’m a demon. Would prefer to keep it that way.”

“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale said, looking down at his shoes. “But…you are still planning on…coming next week, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asked, his voice trembling a little. 

“‘Course, it’s just—“ there was another crash, louder this time, and even more shouting. 

“I’m so sorry, Aziraphale, I have to go. Can I call you back later?”

“Yes, my dear,” Aziraphale said, feeling suddenly a bit heartbroken. “Talk later.” He hung up, and walked to a window, looking outside at the garden. It was raining, and a bit chilly. Aziraphale had on a comfortable cable-knit sweater, which was enough to keep him warm, yet he still felt himself shudder. 

What if he had waited too long? What if…what if Crowley’s new life, the one that didn’t include him, had taken his demon away? He was on the other side of the world, doing so many exciting things, it would be easy for Crowley to just stay there. 

Aziraphale sighed at the irony of it all. This whole idea began because the angel was so wrapped-up and distracted by his own hobbies that he hadn’t done a good job of being attentive to Crowley. Now he was the one pining away for the demon, feeling somewhat neglected, while Crowley was preoccupied with…starting a new club in LA. 

Aziraphale could try and distract himself with the book of prophesy. He and Ms. Device were slowly making some progress—unfortunately, all of the prophesies they were able to decipher had already come to pass. Figuring out what was to happen in the future was an entirely different skillset, and one that required a great deal of study. 

The angel then perused the pages, rereading the words he had practically memorized by now, spending time looking for something he had missed. 

But his mind kept wandering to Crowley, the red hair, the yellow eyes, the snakelike saunter. Oh how Aziraphale wanted to wrap his arms around his demon, curl up in bed with him while they listened to the rain. He closed his eyes and hugged himself, imagining that he was pulling the demon on top of him, feeling the weight of him as they sank down into the soft mattress on the bed upstairs. The angel missed the feel of skin-on-skin contact, the smell of Crowley covering him, the taste of the demon’s mouth as they kissed. 

Aziraphale whined pitifully, and blinked his eyes open. It was dark now, and had been several hours since he last spoke with Crowley. The pitter-patter of steady rain was the only sound he could hear, and so he sighed and made himself a cup of cocoa. 

…

Once Isabel showed up, Crowley was finally able to get away from the construction crews. When he made his way back to his flat, he called Aziraphale. 

“Hello?” the angel answered groggily. That was unusual—Aziraphale wasn’t one for sleep. Crowley checked the time…it was 2 am in England. ‘Shit,’ he cursed to himself. 

“Angel, sorry, did I wake you?”

“You..you did Crowley. My how unlike me! I was just reading over the book of prophesy and sipping my third cup of cocoa, and…the next thing I know my mobile telephone was vibrating.”

Crowley laughed a little at this, imagining a snoring Aziraphale face-down on a book, eyeglasses askance, drooling over the pages, and all filled up on warm milk and chocolate. 

‘Bloody ridiculous,’ Crowley thought to himself, as he imagined covering Aziraphale up with a warm blanket, and miracling the angel drool off of the book. 

“Sorry to call back this late,” Crowley said. “Everything seems to be running behind schedule. Humans are bloody useless sometimes.”

“Mmm,” was all Aziraphale offered in response. 

“Did you…have a nice week then?” Crowley asked, stretching out over his bed. 

“I did,” Aziraphale said curtly, and Crowley frowned. The angel was clearly annoyed.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked. 

“….nothing.” Aziraphale replied.

“Aziraphale…” Crowley said with a low tone. “I know something is wrong. Tell me.”

“It’s…it’s nothing,” Aziraphale said, with a tone that suggested that it very clearly was something. 

“Aziraphale. Tell me.” Crowley said, his tone suddenly a bit sharper. 

There was a little sigh on the other end of the line. 

“It’s just…” Aziraphale paused.

“Go on,” Crowley urged. 

“It’s just…you’re so busy now, and your life is on the other side of the world. You have so much going on and now…I mean if you don’t want…if it’s been too long and you’ve moved on…” Crowley could hear some sniffles on the other end, and he decided not to speak until Aziraphale was done. 

“I would understand,” the angel continued. “But I would feel like a fool for…for not paying attention to you those months ago…for not staying in LA when we saw each other. For letting you slip away from me. If you…if you don’t want to come next week, I will completely respect your wishes and…and I’ll understand but….but it will be so hard for me to…to…get over it…you.” 

Aziraphale was clearly crying now, his voice cracking at the last sentence. “Aziraphale,” Crowley said softly, but all he heard where soft sobs in response. “Aziraphale, please, Aziraphale,” he said a little more loudly. 

There was a sniff, and a meek, “Y-yes?”

“I’ll be there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...close...to finally being back together. So very, very close. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it this week!


	25. Chapter 25

Aziraphale didn’t sleep for the whole week leading up to the day of their reunion. He was excited. He was nervous. He was scared. 

He also was incredibly peckish. Funny how human bodies seem to crave sweets when under stress. Aziraphale thus ate a rather large number of pastries, becoming a familiar face at the local bakery. By the end of the week, the employees knew his favorite kind of treat, and often gave him an extra slice of cake.

Aziraphale also wanted to make the space as ready for Crowley as possible. He purchased the demon’s favorite alcohols, and stocked the bar. He made sure there was plenty of firewood to keep the cottage warm enough for a snake when the temperatures dropped. He placed black satin sheets on the bed, which was itself very large (and soft…probably too soft for Crowley, Aziraphale thought on reflection, but the angel did have standards when it came to reclining, and he suspected Crowley wouldn’t mind terribly). He made sure to have albums of some of Crowley’s favorite musicians. 

The garden he didn’t touch, but he did wander through it a couple of times, examining the plants and walkway, making sure there wasn’t litter or anything that looked horribly out of place. 

The day before Crowley was set to arrive, Aziraphale looked about the cottage and realized that his books were absolutely everywhere, on every surface possible, strewn in little stacks on the floor. Aziraphale frowned, knowing that Crowley preferred a pristine, minimalist environment, and he desperately wanted the demon to feel at home. So he set about arranging the books, trying his best to arrange them alphabetically, but getting easily distracted. 

He stopped mid-morning to make himself tea, and he sighed when he surveyed his work. It was somehow even messier than it had been when he started. “Oh bother,” Aziraphale said aloud, feeling a little disappointed with himself. 

But at least the book organization had been a distraction from obsessing over Crowley. Now that he was on a little break, he began to wonder if the demon was on his way right at that moment, in an airplane, perhaps.

‘What if things are…awkward?’ He wondered to himself, sipping his tea. ‘What if we don’t have chemistry anymore? Should I kiss him? Offer him wine? Should I tell him I bought this cottage?’

That was another issue—the cottage. He wanted Crowley to move in with him, but…what if the demon didn’t want that? What if that was too fast? He remembered the whole marriage proposal fiasco, and didn’t want to make a repeat mistake.

And how was he going to ask him anyways? Were there protocols for such a thing?

Aziraphale felt as clueless as ever.

After finishing his tea, the angel went back to organizing. He decided to try and fit as many books as possible onto a bookshelf in the front room, and the manual labor made him work himself into a little bit of a sweat. His sleeves were rolled up, and his bowtie was untied about his collar, the top buttons of his shirt undone as he moved stack after stack of books. He was on his last stack, a rather large pile of four old, leather-bound volumes, when suddenly the door slammed open. The noise and gust of cool wind startled Aziraphale, and he dropped his books into a pile on the floor. He turned to see what it was, and when he did, his heart skipped a beat.

“Crowley!”

The demon stood in the doorway, his red hair perfectly disheveled. He was wearing his usual outfit—black coat, silvery tie, tight jeans. He was carrying a small box and flowers—deep red roses. 

“I…erm…didn’t think you’d be here,” Crowley said as he remained in the threshold, looking at Aziraphale with eyes covered by glasses. “Was just gonna…set it up a bit…for tomorrow,” the demon shifted uncomfortably. “But I know it’s…it’s tomorrow that we’re technically supposed to meet, so I can…er…go and…uh…come back…”

Aziraphale’s heart was racing, his chest heaving with excited breath, and before he could stop himself the angel was taking purposeful strides towards Crowley. The demon stood perfectly still as Aziraphale approached, and without saying a word the angel placed his hands on Crowley’s cheeks and kissed him. 

…

Crowley had been in England for a couple of days. He got there early—mostly to ensure that his beloved Bentley was unharmed. He had kept it in a secure garage that manifested itself by the flat before he left the country, and to his relief, it was fine.

He had planned to arrive at the cottage a day early, and make the space as romantic as possible. Chocolates and flowers were only but a part of his plan, which was going to include copious amounts of champagne, strawberries, rose petals, a warm fire, and a rug by the fireplace. 

So when he saw Aziraphale, he was not only surprised, but a little disappointed because he realized that his romantic plans (to surprise Aziraphale and show him exactly how much he loved him) were not going to happen. But his disappointment was soon overshadowed by a desire to show Aziraphale how much he missed the angel with other methods.

Crowley made a squeak at the sudden kiss. He hadn’t known how to react when he unexpectedly saw Aziraphale. The sight of the angel standing in the middle of the room, sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned, with a stack of books was surprising—every fiber of Crowley’s being begged him to to run to Aziraphale, grab him, hold him—but he knew the angel was a stickler for rules and would probably want to wait until tomorrow, when they were scheduled to meet, so he stayed frozen in the doorway.

He was happy to be wrong. 

Crowley dropped the flowers and box of chocolates, and wrapped himself around Aziraphale, pressing the angel into him. 

“Aziraphale, Angel, I missed you,” he panted as they broke away from their kiss, both catching their breath and staring at one another. 

"I missed you too,” Aziraphale said softly as he released his hold on Crowley’s cheeks, and moved his hands to his glasses. 

“Let me see your eyes, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he gently slipped them from Crowley’s face. The demon swallowed nervously, allowing the angel to remove his glasses, while himself feeling incredibly vulnerable at the act.

He was completely in Aziraphale’s power. 

“Oh, Crowley, my love,” Aziraphale said once the glasses were removed, and the angel smiled sweetly as he looked into Crowley’s uncovered eyes.

Crowley felt like there was a lump in his throat and he was unable to say anything in response except whine a little. The whole interaction was becoming overwhelming—he felt like he may turn to a snake at any moment. 

“That’s much better,” Aziraphale said while the demon struggled to find words. “I did so miss your eyes.”

Crowley said nothing but wrapped his arms about Aziraphale tightly, burying his face in the crook of the angel’s neck and breathing in the scent of his lover. Crowley *missed* this, missed having Aziraphale close, and oh Somebody he *needed* to hold Aziraphale to him as closely as possible. 

They stood like this for a time—seconds, minutes, hours, it was impossible for Crowley to say. But soon there’s a polite little ‘ahem’ and a soft ‘my dear.’

“Mmm?” Crowley grunted in response, not letting Aziraphale go. 

“My dear might we…uh…move this inside? It’s rather chilly here in the doorway and we are letting all the cold air in. Plus…I am beginning to lose feeling in my arms…”

“Oh,” Crowley said, and uncoiled himself from Aziraphale. “Sorry.”

“Perfectly alright my dear,” Aziraphale said as he looked down. “Are these for me?” he asked, bending over to pick up the flowers. 

“Er…yeah…and chocolates,” Crowley replied, reaching down to get the box. 

“That was very thoughtful of you Crowley” Aziraphale said. 

“Nngk,” Crowley said at being called 'thoughtful,' and Aziraphale pulled the demon inside, shutting the door behind him. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you,” Aziraphale said a little sheepishly. “Except for alcohol. I have all your favorites. ”

“S’alright,” Crowley replied, following the angel. He was still nervous, but the initial shock had worn off. 

Aziraphale walked him over to the sofa, and set the flowers down on the coffee table, gesturing for the demon to take a seat. After he sat and set the chocolates on the table beside the flowers, Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, waiting for the angel to make the next move. The angel smiled shyly, and stroked Crowley’s face. 

“Would you like some wine my dear? Champagne? Something to help you settle from your journey?”

Crowley shook his head and swallowed. “No,” he said, reaching for Aziraphale’s hand. “I only want you.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale in reply, and he blushed. 

At the sight of the angel’s pink cheeks, Crowley couldn’t hold himself back. Heart racing, he pulled Aziraphale down onto the couch next to him, kissing him deeply while the angel let out a soft, surprised gasp. 

…

Aziraphale kissed Crowley back, opening his mouth and letting the demons tongue slide inside. The angel missed the taste of Crowley, and couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. He suddenly felt Crowley’s hands wander all over him, around his back, to his knee, up his thigh. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned desperately as be broke away from the kiss, gasping for air. Crowley then moved to Aziraphale’s neck, sucking and licking and nipping the angel’s soft flesh as fingers dug into Aziraphale’s thighs. Aziraphale, in response, wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling desperately at his coat, wanting it to be removed.

“C-Crowley, my dear,” was all he could muster, and in response Crowley sat back, taking his coat, waistcoat, and shirt off swiftly, revealing his sinewy torso. Aziraphale reclined against the armrest as he watched Crowley disrobe, and he bit his lip in anticipation, enjoying the beautiful sight of his lover. When Crowley was completely naked from the waist up, Aziraphale’s hands moved to his belt, and he began to undo it, but Crowley batted his hands away. 

“No. Allow me,” the demon commanded, and he carefully undid the buckle, then slowly slipped the belt it from its loops. Once the belt was removed, Crowley unbuttoned the fly, and planted soft kisses at the newly exposed skin, glancing up at Aziraphale as though for approval. 

“Oh God yes,” was all Aziraphale could say as he watched Crowley slowly kiss his way around his hips. With perhaps a little demonic intervention, Crowley then slipped Aziraphale’s trousers completely off, but leaving his underwear in place. 

“You’re beautiful like this Aziraphale,” Crowley said, staring down at the angel. Aziraphale felt exposed, and a little embarrassed, and he began to cover his face with his hand. As though knowing what Aziraphale was thinking, Crowley grabbed the hand and kissed the palm. 

“Absolutely breathtaking, Angel.”

At this Aziraphale shuddered.

The demon then worked his way in-between the angel’s legs, planting soft kisses and licks to the inner thighs as he moved slowly upward.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned in response, squeezing his eyes shut as his head fell back and his hips slowly began to gyrate. Determined fingers worked their way around Aziraphale’s waistband, dipping beneath the fabric and teasing the angel until Aziraphale was sure he was going to explode from the overwhelming sensation. 

Crowley eventually pulled at the underwear, and Aziraphale opened his eyes and lifted his head to watch as his erection was exposed. Once the underwear was all the way removed, Crowley went back up between Aziraphale’s thighs, and encircled his shaft with a hand. Aziraphale moaned obscenely at this, and then, without any slow buildup or warning, Crowley slid the hard member completely into his mouth, until Crowley completely engulfed Aziraphale.

“Oh, fuck,” Aziraphale groaned unceremoniously, and his hips bucked, the warm wetness against his erection sending ripples of pleasure throughout his whole body. “Oh, oh my dear, that feels amazing.” 

Crowley’s tongue massaged into the underside of Aziraphale’s shaft as he dragged up and down. Aziraphale’s hips rolled into the rhythm Crowley set, his hands moving to Crowley’s head. He tugged on the red hair, eliciting a moan from the demon that vibrated around his member. 

“Oh, Crowley, it’s…it’s.…” Aziraphale began to lose himself, feeling like he was going to orgasm. 

“I’m going to come, my dear, please, it’s,” and with that, Crowley slid himself off of Aziraphale with a pop.

For a moment Aziraphale thought that perhaps Crowley was done pleasuring him, that perhaps the demon would give him a little rest and let him cool off a bit…but this was not the case. Crowley spread Aziraphale’s legs apart even further than they already were, and lifted the angel’s hips slightly, and pushed up on Aziraphale’s thighs so that the angel was completely exposed. He then, keeping his hands where he could hold Aziraphale open, he began to work his tongue into his lover, deep into the crevice around Aziraphale’s backside. 

“Ahh, oh,” Aziraphale yelped as the demon’s tongue licked around the opening and slowly plunged inside. 

Aziraphale’s hands reached for the couch cushions, and he fisted the fabric tightly. The pleasure was again overwhelming, and his cock, glistening from Crowley’s saliva, was leaking precum. Aziraphale shut his eyes again, letting the feeling of Crowley’s tongue work in him, and his knees began to shake.

“Yes…yes my dear that’s…that’s wonderful but…but I’d rather…oh, OH….please let me have *you*,” he stuttered, as the tongue massaged and worked it’s way deeper. 

At this plea Crowley moved back, sliding his tongue out of Aziraphale and leaning back onto his haunches. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked down at Aziraphale. 

“We have to make sure you’re *ready* Angel,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale looked at him. Blinked. And then snapped. 

“I’m ready.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's sex. 
> 
> A lot of sex. 
> 
> It's just...It's all sex.
> 
> Multiple orgasms and overstimulation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient with me! I had to get through the holidays with my family, and then had some computer issues. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

“Nngk,” was all Crowley could say in response. He fumbled with his own belt buckle and trousers, rather ungracefully pulling them down to his ankles and revealing how hard he was. 

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale said in a low voice when Crowley’s erection was freed from the tight jeans. “Do hurry.” 

With a snap everything was off, and Crowley pounced back onto Aziraphale, hissing with pleasure at the feeling of their naked bodies touching each other. He held himself aloft over the angel with one hand pressing into the couch cushion, his other hand slowly traveled down Aziraphale’s torso. 

Crowley, lips parted and breathing heavily, looked into the angel's eyes, and was awash with emotion. 

“I missed you,” he said. “Fuck Aziraphale, I missed you so much.”

At this the angel smiled, and lifted his hand to Crowley’s cheek. Crowley nuzzled into the touch, moving his head around to kiss Aziraphale’s wrist. With his free hand, he positioned himself, teasing Aziraphale’s cleft with the head of his cock, and Aziraphale whined. 

“Are you—“ Crowley started.

“I am,” Aziraphale interrupted, nodding his head eagerly. 

Crowley bit his lip and slowly slid his way inside, letting out a ragged breath. Both angel and demon let out a moan, and Crowley nearly lost his balance, repositioning both hands on either side of Aziraphale. 

Crowley’s mind whirled at the sensation, his eyes shutting tightly and he held himself there, unmoving. The feeling of touching Aziraphale, being inside of Aziraphale, was overwhelming. 

“My dear?” he heard Aziraphale say, and Crowley opened his eyes, and looked down. “Is….everything alright?” The angel’s blue eyes were wide and his brow lined with concern, but his cheeks were flush with lust. 

Crowley nodded, a lump forming in his throat preventing him from speaking. He swallowed and slowly began to roll his hips, pulling back and pushing in again slowly. 

“Ahh-ha,” Aziraphale moaned breathily as his eyes rolled back and his mouth twisted into an open smile. Crowley watched as the angel’s tongue flickered against his teeth, and the demon picked up the pace. 

“Oh, oh yes my dear, oh Crowley,” Aziraphale moaned as his hands reached up and around Crowley’s back, and he dragged his nails over the demon’s skin.

Crowley arched at this, hissing in pleasure at the feeling of angel fingers digging into him and leaving what he could only imagine were little red lines drawn over his skin. He slammed into Aziraphale, hip bones crashing into thick thighs as Aziraphale yelped. 

“Oh, yes Crowley, right there, please,” and Crowley obeyed, slamming into him again and again at the same angle and eliciting cry after cry from the angel underneath. 

Suddenly Aziraphale’s eyes popped open and he looked at Crowley. 

“I’m going to come, my dear, please it’s…too soo—“ Crowley interrupted Aziraphale with a kiss, letting his tongue slither against Aziraphale’s as he picked up the pace, careful to still hit Aziraphale in the same spot. 

At this the angel screamed against Crowley’s lips, and Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hot and sticky spendings paint his abdomen. He pulled back to watch the angel’s face as he came—mouth open, brow furrowed—

“Yes, Angel, that’s it, come for me, shit,” Crowley moaned as he continued to thrust into Aziraphale, feeling the muscles clench around his cock as the angel shuddered. 

With one final quiver Aziraphale blinked his eyes open, and Crowley slowed his pace. He smiled at his lover beneath him. 

“Was that good Angel?” he asked, knowing the answer. 

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “Crowley, you know it was good but,” he pouted, “I was rather hoping we would come together my dear. And at least let it last a little longer. That was not entirely sporting of you.”

“Oh Angel,” Crowley said, and he kissed him sloppily, and pulling back with a wet noise. “We *are* going to come together." Crowley smiled rakishly. "Eventually.” Crowley was still inside of Aziraphale, but no longer moving.

“Eventually?” Aziraphale asked meekly, raising an eyebrow. 

Crowley moved down to whisper into Aziraphale's ear. “I am going to drag so many orgasms out of you, you won’t be able to see straight,” Crowley said, his voice low. Aziraphale let out a soft gasp at this. “And then, once you are completely undone, and think you can’t possibly come any more—that’s when we’ll come together.”

“Oh..Crowley…but I…”

And with that Crowley slid out of Aziraphale completely, and took the angel’s soft member between his fingers, stroking it gently. 

“We just need to get you ready again,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale let out a soft squeak. 

…

Aziraphale had experienced multiple orgasms in one evening before, so he knew it was possible to keep going. But he wasn’t completely convinced that he would be able to come as many times as Crowley seemed to imply. 

He soon learned that the combination of being absolutely touch starved, receiving pleasure from his lover’s deft hands and skillful tongue (not to mention his glorious shaft), and receiving what he assumed was a bit of demonic magic, his body kept going, kept wanting more, and kept orgasming. 

All in all, Crowley brought Aziraphale to climax seven times that evening. 

The second time was with Crowley’s tongue dragging up the underside of Aziraphale’s member as he slid his mouth down over the head, the demon’s hand pumping and massaging the lower part of the shaft. Aziraphale was still on his back on the couch, pulling indecorously at Crowley’s hair as he came, shooting himself into his lover’s mouth and down his throat as his hips bucked. Crowley hollowed his cheeks as he sucked and swallowed. 

“Oh…oh dear, I’m afraid that you…that we…” Aziraphale was breathless and having trouble vocalizing his concern for Crowley’s pleasure. 

“We aren’t done yet,” Crowley said with an almost wicked tone, and with supernatural strength and grace, he flipped the angel over, and began massaging his backside. 

Aziraphale, mind fuzzy from overstimulation, wasn’t entirely sure what caused him to orgasm the third time, whether it was Crowley’s fingers, or demonically long tongue, or some other implement, but his skillful lover found the bundle of nerves deep inside of him and worked them with such gentle care that Aziraphale came again, resting on his stomach, cum soiling the cushion and seeping over his abdomen. 

When he recovered, he raised a hand to snap the mess away, but Crowley ordered him to leave it. 

“My dear,” the angel whined, “it’s very sticky and cold, and I’d rather it not…you know…stain the couch.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at this, and with a snap the mess was gone. 

After a short reprieve, Aziraphale was sitting properly on the couch, legs planted on the floor. Crowley was straddling his lap, kissing his neck and slowly drawing circles around Aziraphale’s hips with teasing fingers. 

“Crowley, I really think I won’t be able to get hard again. I’m afraid we’ve missed our—“

There was a light zap, and a tingling sensation, and blood began to rush to Aziraphale’s member, which was growing increasingly stiff by the second. 

“Crowley!” He chastised, but the demon said nothing in defense, simply continued to kiss his neck as his hand wrapped around Aziraphale’s erection. With a few movements and another snap Crowley was lowering himself onto Aziraphale, and the demon was warm, slick, and open. 

“You foul fiend,” Aziraphale said as his head hit the backrest of the couch. “That’s absolutely, why it’s….oh it’s marvelous,” he grabbed Crowley’s hips and bucked up to meet him, “Yes, yes Crowley, you feel wonderful.”

Crowley rode Aziraphale, setting a slow pace at first, but working his way to a gallop, rising and falling on his haunches with an energetic pace as Aziraphale sat back in the couch, helpless, his hips making small, feeble movements to try and match the demon’s pace. He squeezed Crowley’s ass, moaning at the sensation, but was already so exhausted that he could do little more than that.

“Come for me Aziraphale,” Crowley ordered after a while, and he immediately sucked on the angel’s neck to where it slightly hurt, and Aziraphale cried out for the demon as he erupted inside his lover.

Aziraphale was tired and spent, yet Crowley did not orgasm as well. 

“Crowley…Crowley…you can’t…I can’t….” Aziraphale stuttered. 

Crowley lifted himself off of Aziraphale, and sat beside him. “You can, Angel. And you will.”

Aziraphale let out a whimper, and Crowley combed his fingers through the matted golden curls.

“How I missed my angel,” Crowley hissed softly, kissing Aziraphale’s cheek. 

“I…I missed you too my dear…” was all Crowley could muster to say. 

“How about something to eat?” Crowley asked tenderly. “Get a little of your strength back?”

Aziraphale perked up at this slightly. “Why…yes, I think I could do with a bit of something to nibble.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. “Would you like to try some of these chocolates? They're from Belgium.”

“Really?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes widening at the thought, and nearly regaining his strength at the mere thought of a confection.

Crowley opened the box, and pulled out a dark, round piece. “Here,” he said, lifting the chocolate to Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel took a bite and pulled back, a string of caramel hanging from his lips. 

“Mmy Grwly,” he said, with a mouthful of chocolate. “I if whcrumchus.”

“WhOt?” Crowley asked in response. Aziraphale chewed hastily and swallowed. 

“I said, ‘my Crowley, it is scrumptious,” and he licked his lips, looking down at the rest of the piece of candy Crowley held between his fingers. “Might I…” he looked up pleadingly. 

Crowley snickered. “My gluttonous Angel,” and Aziraphale pouted. 

“Crowley…” he whined petulantly, and the demon lifted the rest of the chocolate to the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale, feeling a little guilty, opened and let Crowley place it on his tongue, and Aziraphale couldn't help but let his eyes roll back in ecstasy. The flavors were divine, sweet and bitter and a little salty. 

“That’s good Angel. Just enjoy it,” Crowley cooed, and Aziraphale relaxed a little, feeling less guilty perhaps, but no less gluttonous. 

The demon fed him a few more pieces—one with a raspberry filling, and one with some kind of sweet cream. The confections were certainly reviving him, and as he sucked on his teeth to remove any remnant chocolate, Crowley slipped down between his legs. Aziraphale looked down with interest, though he was not hard at the moment. 

“Why don’t you have another,” Crowley suggested. 

“Well, if you insist,” Aziraphale immediately picked a smooth piece from the box and popped it in his mouth. 

“Yes, Aziraphale, keep eating them. I want you to enjoy yourself,” and soon, the demon was kissing Aziraphale’s thighs, spreading his legs apart, and teasing his cock. 

“Mmmm Grwly” He moaned with a mouthful of chocolate. “E ho gooo.” 

Crowley laughed, and continued his ministrations on the angel’s member, until Aziraphale found that once again he was fully erect. 

The demon worked on him, sliding his mouth over Aziraphale’s cock while the angel stuffed himself with more of the chocolates. 

When Aziraphale came for the fifth time, it was right after he swallowed a tart piece of white chocolate with a lemony filling. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale said when his orgasm had sated. “Do let me take over for a little while.”

Crowley looked up from between the angel’s thighs, wiping his mouth. 

“If that’s what you want,” the demon replied, and Aziraphale smiled. 

“Perhaps…perhaps you wouldn’t mind showing me one of your routines…” Aziraphale asked, adjusting himself in the couch. “Just to set the mood again.”

Crowley smiled, and with a snap he was suddenly dressed in his devil outfit, long red robe billowing down, horns resting atop his fiery hair, heels giving him even more height. 

“Oh, simply beautiful,” Aziraphale beamed, clapping his hands together. He could already feel the blood beginning to collect in his shaft again. 

Crowley didn’t play any music, but slowly sauntered around the room. He bent over suggestively, slid a hand seductively up his leg, and flashed a hint of thigh. 

“Is thissss what you want?” He asked Aziraphale as Crowley dragged his index finger over his corset and up to his mouth, and he sucked on it while keeping eye contact with Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale groaned. 

“My dear, I don’t believe that piece of choreography was part of your routine.

“No, Angel. This dance is special. Just for you,” he said as he knelt down onto his knees, tossing his head back as he slowly began to remove the robe. 

Aziraphale’s breath hitch, and he found himself stroking his sixth erection of the day. 

“Oh…oh..yes my dear…so beautiful. Look at you. So delicious. And just for me?” His heart began to race with anticipation. 

Once the robe was off, Crowley got on all fours, and crawled around so his backside was to Aziraphale, and the angel got a full view of the demon’s red thong. 

“Oh, my dear, I...I simply have to have you,” Aziraphale said, and before he could stop himself he was on the floor behind Crowley, squeezing the flesh of his backside and licking at the fabric that covered the cleft. 

“Ack, Angel!” Crowley yelped in surprise, and he looked back. 

“I’m sorry love. Is it too much?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Not at all,” Crowley responded, sounding a little out of breath and facing front again. Aziraphale smiled, and turned his attention back on the red satin, carefully slipping his fingers underneath, and working inside the demon, miracling a bit of lubricant to ease the process, and eventually scissoring him open. 

Crowley mewled when Aziraphale inserted a third finger, and at that, the angel moved to mount him. 

“May I…” he politely asked, moving his member to the opening and rubbing his head over the satin. 

“Nngk, yes,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale slid the satin aside and slowly pushed his way inside. 

Both moaned. 

Aziraphale looked down at the demon before him—red corset laced up the back, ridiculous devil horns, red thong stretched tight, and he felt momentarily overwhelmed. He held himself there, panting laboriously, when Crowley cleared his throat and looked back. 

“Everything alright, Angel?”

“Oh, yes love just…taking this all in,” he dragged out slowly and slid back in. “So to speak.”

Crowley groaned, his head collapsing forward and back arching. 

Aziraphale continued to roll his hips back and forth. “My dear, will you come like this?”

“Not if I can help it,” Crowley said with a strained voice. “Must…get you…to…ahh…”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured. “You don’t have to work me to such a state, you know. You’ve done such a good job, you deserve to climax.” And Aziraphale reached around to find that Crowley’s cock was hard and leaking precum. 

Crowley bucked at the touch and hissed. “N-no, I can…hold it…”

“My dear,” Aziraphale cooed, moving his hips a little faster. “It’s perfectly—-“

There was a shudder, and it seemed for a moment like Crowley was going to lose control, but suddenly his head snapped back and he rolled his spine. 

“Shut it, Angel. You are clearly too coherent,” and he slammed his ass back into Aziraphale, who yelped in surprise. 

…

While wearing his lingerie, Crowley ensured that Aziraphale got a thorough workout, fucking him in several positions. When he heard the angel moan behind him, he crawled forward and stood up, leaning his back against a wall. 

“Can you lift me?” He asked, knowing full well the answer was yes, and without saying a word Aziraphale was hoisting the demon, and Crowley wrapped his legs around the angel’s hips. Aziraphale moaned as he slammed into him in this position, and Crowley had to concentrate on not coming. 

“I feel like you’re not able to appreciate my outfit,” Crowley managed to say after a little while, and Aziraphale stopped, his breathing heavy and sweat dripping down his brow. 

“I…I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale said as he panted, and Crowley slid down, off of Aziraphale, and sauntered to the couch, lying back and spreading his legs apart so that Aziraphale could stand over him while fucking him. 

Aziraphale’s mouth was open, and he nodded after seeing where the demon reclined, and rather clumsily clamored over to Crowley and moved to, once again, fill Crowley. 

Crowley raised a leg to Aziraphale’s shoulder, his high heels still on his feet. This was the position in which he wanted to make the angel orgasm, and he knew just how to bring him over the edge. 

“That’s it Aziraphale, fuck me just like that,” he said, as his hands rubbed his corset and his body began to twist in serpentine movements. 

“Hell, Angel, do you see how hard you make me?” Aziraphale’s eyes flickered down to Crowley’s bulge, the red thong tented and barely covering his cock. Aziraphale grunted. 

Crowley slid a hand down, and slowly touched himself as Aziraphale continued to pound into him. “You make me so hard, just thinking about you fucking me for all these months would make me come. Your dick filling me like it is now,” he slipped his own cock out from his thong, and began to stroke slowly. Aziraphale watched the display and whined, loosing track of his rhythm.

‘So close now,’ Crowley thought to himself as he clenched his muscles around Aziraphale’s erection. 

The angel let out a guttural cry, almost to the edge. Crowley began to work his own cock more quickly before Aziraphale's lust-filled gaze. “Oh fuck yes Aziraphale, fuck me just like this, just like I imagined, it makes me so hard, you make me so ha—“

“Oh! Oh my dear, Oh,” Aziraphale yelled spasming into Crowley as he filled the demon with his spendings. 

“Yesss Aziraphale,” Crowley said, letting go of his own erection so as not to orgasm yet. 

After he had finished, Aziraphale’s head drooped forward. He was panting and shaking, the sixth orgasm of the day drawing out of him nearly the last of his energy. He pulled out of Crowley, and stumbled to the couch, reclining back. 

“Crowley,” he said weakly after a few moments. “Crowley I can’t—“

“There, there,” Crowley whispered, kissing Aziraphale on the cheek. “You’re almost there. We’re almost there. Do you think you can come one more time? Just once? For me?”

Aziraphale blinked his eyes open, looking dazed and tired and utterly worn out. 

“For…for you…?” He asked. 

Crowley nodded.

“Yes, I…” he panted, his eyes shutting again as his whole body completely relaxed into the couch. “I…I can try but…”

“Shhh,” Crowley whispered, as his hands moved down the middle of Aziraphale’s torso, around his cock, and curved down under to his backside. “You don’t have to do a thing. Let me do it for you,” he said, and Aziraphale nodded weakly, blearily peeping his eyes open. 

Crowley gently worked Aziraphale, making sure the angel was open and slick enough for Crowley to ease himself inside without any difficulty or discomfort. He climbed atop the angel, whose body had completely relaxed into the sofa, and he placed his cock at the entrance. 

“Is this alright angel?” He asked gently, and Aziraphale nodded. 

“Yes,” he said softly. 

“And you’d tell me if it wasn’t?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded again, and the demon kissed his cheek. 

“And you’ll tell me to stop or use our safe word if it’s too much?” Crowley asked.

“Mmmhmmm,” Aziraphale hummed in response, a smile creeping over his face and a faint blush painting over his cheeks. 

Crowley’s heart melted at the sight, and he kissed Aziraphale again. The angel pursed his lips weakly, trying to meet the kiss, and Crowley softly laughed. 

“You’re so beautiful,” The demon said, and he with careful tenderness slid himself inside, and a contented sigh left Aziraphale’s lips. 

Crowley’s hips moved slowly, and he cupped Aziraphale’s cheek with the palm of his hand, kissed his face softly, and told him over and over again how much he missed him, how beautiful he was, and how much he loved him. Eventually Aziraphale grew hard again, and Crowley gently worked his shaft with his hand, meeting the gently rhythm he set with the roll of his hips.

“I love you too, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly when his own erection was beginning to throb in Crowley’s hand, though the rest of his body still clearly weak from the earlier exertions. “You’re so…so good…”

Crowley moaned at that, and felt the slow burst of pleasure issuing forth, radiating from his abdomen and groin and exploding deep inside of Aziraphale. “Angel, oh Angel,” he moaned, letting the feeling completely take over, his body awash with pleasure and love.

As he came he pumped almost helplessly at Aziraphale’s cock, but it didn’t take much—with a gentle cry the angel climaxed as well, warm cum spreading over Crowley’s hand.

The two stayed in the position for a while, until every last shudder left each of their bodies. 

Crowley slipped out, and with a snap everything was clean. He nestled next to Aziraphale, holding his head up with one hand, while the other lazily caressed the angel. Aziraphale wiggled contentedly, his eyes shut and a sweet smile spread over his face. 

“How are you?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale only widened his smile more. 

“Perfectly happy, my dear,” the angel said. 

Crowley smiled, and moved to plant a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s lips, when he suddenly noticed something in the corner of his eye. He stopped, turned, and stared. 

“Aziraphale….why are all of your 19th century novels stacked in that corner?”

Aziraphale’s eyes shot open at this. 

“And….hang on…is that bookshelf full of….your Latin literature?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. 

“Uh…right. My dear, I’m afraid…I have something to tell you. Perhaps…perhaps we had better get dressed.”

“What is it?” Crowley asked, alarmed. 

“It’s…well…” Aziraphale sat up, and Crowley followed suit, staring at him intently. 

“You see, love, I’ve…I’ve bought this cottage.”

Crowley stared. And blinked. 

“You….What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think in the comments (and I did edit myself, so I'm sorry if there are any typos).
> 
> Also, I do try and update any delays on my Twitter (@stormsonjupiter) so feel free to find me and bother me there 😉


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter, post-coitus cuddle session chapter for you all. I hope you enjoy!

In the days leading up to their meeting, Aziraphale had practiced what he would say to Crowley about the cottage.

He had, in fact, spent a few hours having serious conversations with himself about it in the mirror. 

He had planned on noting how charming the cottage was when he saw it, and how it had been for sale when Madam Tracy moved to the area. He’d planned on going into great detail about how concerned he had been that the cottage sell before they had their rendezvous, emphasizing it as more of a practical purchase than anything else. 

He also had planned on very, very subtly inviting Crowley to stay with him as long as the demon wanted. Aziraphale didn’t want to pressure Crowley—the angel was still painfully aware of how clueless he himself was when it came to romantic gestures, but he hoped he was at least starting to get it right. 

What Aziraphale had not prepared for, however, was having seven mind-blowing orgasms in a row. Orgasms that not only made him feel like his limbs were reduced to liquid, but also completely drained his ability to remember what he had eaten for breakfast that morning (let alone the sentences of a carefully-worded monologue about the cottage).

So when the sex-worn angel blurted it out unceremoniously and without any sort of preparation, he immediately blushed a deep crimson. His stomach tied in little knots and he began to panic.

“Oh, oh well you see, there’s a, yes, a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, dear boy, I....I assure you,” he stammered, turning his face away from Crowley. 

‘Oh fiddlesticks what *was* the reason?’ he thought to himself, the alarm and flush increasing by the moment. But the only phrase that repeated in his mind over and over again was...

‘Because I wanted it to be here for you, Crowley. If you want it.’

But the poor, flustered blonde was far too nervous to say that. Surely that would put Crowley on the spot.

So he stammered and reached his hand up to his curls and fingered his hair nervously until Crowley finally chuckled. 

Aziraphale stopped trying and looked at the demon, defeated.

“It’s alright, Angel. You don’t have to tell me if it’s a whole thing.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s midsection and planted a soft kiss on his shoulder. 

“It suits you.” 

“It suits me?” Aziraphale asked, his eyebrows raising. 

“Yeah. The cottage. Suits you. And your books...” Crowley looked around the space. “Well we might need to add another wing to house them if you’re planning on bringing all of them.”

“Well I was planning on keeping the bookshop as wel—hang on, did you say ‘we?’”

It was now Crowley’s turn to blush and stammer a little. 

“Ah, w— I mean uh, you know. If...if you wanted help...I..I.....I’d, you know, uh...help.” 

Aziraphale smiled fondly, and planted a small kiss on the tip of the demon’s nose. 

“I’ll be sure to ask you if I desire adding any wings to the cottage dear.”

They both relaxed back into the sofa, but Aziraphale felt unsatisfied. He wanted to know what Crowley thought about moving in with him. 

Aziraphale let out a soft huff, and Crowley looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“The truth is, my dear, I...I was rather hoping...well wondering at the very least, if you would want to settle down here with me. Eventually, I mean, it...it doesn’t have to be now. Just, well you know, if you ever wanted...” The angel bit his lower lip and awaited Crowley’s response, his heart racing as though it might burst. 

“Ah, well,” the demon glanced away from Aziraphale, and the angel felt for a moment like his heart was going to drop.

“I hadn’t really thought about it like that, but I guess I sort of figured that would happen anyways. I mean that we’d live together.” Crowley looked back, his yellow eyes fixing on Aziraphale’s. “So if you want it to be here then....sure,” he shrugged, “why not? Don’t really care where I am as long as I’m with you.”

“Oh! Really Crowley?!” Aziraphale asked, a broad smile sweeping over his face, and his heart skipped a beat. “Do you really mean that?”

The corner of Crowley’s mouth turned up into a smile.

“‘Course I do.”

...

The way Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled when he smiled was one of the first things Crowley noticed about the angel all those centuries ago. He thought fondly about how, while standing on the walls of Eden, he *almost* made the worried angel laugh at the situation. As their friendship grew over the millennia, he found himself actively trying to make Aziraphale’s eyes twinkle like that—taking him to get food, trying to lighten the mood when need be, bringing him little gifts here and there, saving him from dangerous situations. 

What Crowley didn’t fully realize until that very moment, as the two sat on the couch discussing their plans, was exactly how much he had missed seeing Aziraphale’s eyes twinkle with happiness. He tilted his head to the side, studying the creases around Aziraphale’s eyes, the slight dilation of the pupils, the blue-green irises that almost seemed to grow darker when he smiled. 

Crowley leaned in and kissed the angel, closed-mouthed and almost reverent. 

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against Aziraphale’s, letting their noses touch. The angel wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him in closer as they nestled into the couch. 

After a few moments Crowley shivered a little, the heat of their bodies finally fading away after their earlier exploits.

“Are you cold my dear?”

“A little. It’s alright..should probably get dressed again.”

“Oh, don’t you dare,” said Aziraphale, and with an angelic snap they were cuddling underneath a soft warm blanket. 

“Or that works too,” Crowley said, squirming underneath the weight of it to get his body closer to his lover’s.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s arm affectionately. 

...

The two of them stayed under the blanket for a few hours, limbs tangled and fingers caressing. They kissed and sighed, and were in no hurry to move. 

Eventually, however, Aziraphale became peckish. The chocolates were a nice treat, but after seven orgasms one does need a bit of nourishment. 

“My dear, may I show you around the rest of the house?”

“I’ve seen it. Would rather stay here with you.”

“Ahh..” Aziraphale replied, not wishing to seem rude and wanting to rush their cuddle session. 

“Did you...want to show me the house?” Crowley asked.

“Well, I was rather hoping we might just take a tour of the kitchen at the very least.”

“Mmhmm,” Crowley responded with an accusatory hum. “And what would we see there? Looked like a fairly standard kitchen the last time I saw it.”

“Well, yes, but you didn’t see how much food the pantry can hold,” Aziraphale pointed out. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Aziraphale, you can be a bit of a brat you know. Just...go get some food if you’re hungry.” Crowley’s tone was perhaps a little sharp, but the playful squeeze on Aziraphale’s thigh told the angel that it was not said with real irritation.

Aziraphale pouted. “But I was hoping you’d join me.” 

“Fine, fine, I’ll join you,” he said, shimmying out from under the blanket, and putting his clothes on with a snap.

“Oh, must we dress?” Aziraphale asked, already missing the sight of Crowley’s body. 

The demon snorted. “Well I’m dressing. It’s too damn cold to be wandering around in here naked. But you be as much of an exhibitionist as you want.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips primly, but didn’t get dressed. The two of them went to the kitchen and the angel put together a plate of cheese and crackers, while Crowley boiled water for tea. 

Aziraphale was rather hungry, and found that he needed a sandwich as well. He looked at Crowley to see if the demon was going to judge him, but Crowley only smiled, leaning back in the kitchen chair, his legs sprawled out. 

“I do need to go back to London for a few days my dear,” Aziraphale said. “I do hope you will join me.”

“Sure,” Crowley replied. “Need to get some things from your bookshop?”

“Well...yes. And I rather thought you’d want to check on your flat.”

“Ah, yeah, well probably should.”

Aziraphale smiles as he bit into the sandwich chewing happily.

‘Well,’ the angel thought as he went over the burlesque plans in his head. ‘At least this surprise will actually go according to plan.’


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're together and opening up to new ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember this story? Yeah, it's still here. Hope you enjoy this little update.

Aziraphale swallowed nervously and his eyes fluttered down. He found himself suddenly unable to meet his lover’s piercing yellow gaze. 

“I’ve bought the cottage,” he said again, and he began to wring his hands nervously. He kept looking down, looking at his hands, saying nothing. After a few awkward moments Aziraphale noted that Crowley shifted his weight, but said nothing. With a sigh Aziraphale finally looked up. Crowley’s eyebrow was raised and he was looking Aziraphale over. 

“Why did you?” he asked finally. Aziraphale shrugged. 

“Didn’t think much about it, really. Just, sort of a whim. Didn’t want…didn’t want someone else to buy it while we were…well…” Aziraphale cleared his throat and looked up, having gained some of his courage back. 

“You don’t have to read anything into this, dear. Really. Just…just think of it as a little holiday. You can…you can stay here as long as you want.”

“As long as I want,” Crowley echoed, the words slowly rolling off his serpentine tongue and Aziraphale shuddered a little. 

“I—well—I mean, I still have the bookshop and all, it was just…just a silly idea,” Aziraphale’s face felt hot and his flustered voice raised an octave. “Really, why don’t we just forget—“

Crowley kissed him suddenly, silencing him. At first Aziraphale was too surprised to return the kiss, but after a few moments Aziraphale opened his mouth, and let his demon’s tongue work its way inside. Aziraphale felt Crowley’s arms wrap around him, holding him in place, steadying him.

When Crowley pulled away, Aziraphale opened his eyes, and was greeted by a pair of twinkling yellow eyes and a demonic smile.

“You want to move in with me,” Crowley said with a teasing, knowing tone. Somehow the blasted demon could always read Aziraphale—even before they were, well, whatever they are now. Aziraphale sighed—no use in denying it. 

“I do,” he confessed. “But, but only if you want it, my dear,” he added. 

Crowley looked around the space, surveying. His nose wrinkled when his gaze rested upon a rather sweet watercolor painting of a pastoral scene. 

“Needs a bit of redecorating,” he said. “Last residents had...questionable...style.” 

Aziraphale looked at the painting. It was nice, he thought. Little sheep standing on a hill—wasn’t made by a particularly skilled artist, but it had a quaint pleasantness. 

He could see why Crowley disapproved. 

“Well I suppose we will both need to, ah, nest, as it were. Make it our own. I’ll need more places for books—“

Crowley frowned at this. 

“How many books?” he asked.

“Well—“

“Aziraphale, the’ll clutter everything. They…look they already are!”

Aziraphale’s eyes glanced at the books. They were slowly taking everything over, he could tell. He looked back at Crowley, his eyes big, and a his lower lip jutting ever-so-slightly.

Crowley looked at him and snarled. “I—no. Don’t do that, no, no not *that* look.” 

Aziraphale blinked, saying nothing.

“No, absolutely not, no it’ll just—nngk, Aziraphale! Fine. FINE. Some. SOME. Not all.”

Aziraphale smiled warmly. Crowley hissed. 

“You can’t just do that look all the time you know,” he said. “Bite your lip if you keep it up.”

“I’m not sure that that is the threat you think it is, my dear,” Aziraphale replied a little smugly. Crowley opened his mouth, but shut it again and shrugged. “But I’ll keep that under advisement.”

…

Crowley spent more time getting to know the cottage. He walked around the gardens, making mental notes of what to change. There was a good deal he was going to need to alter, and he knew that it was going to take some effort to convince Aziraphale. They would have to both compromise. It was going to be a challenge. 

In the evening Aziraphale made pasta with a pesto sauce. He set out two plates on the table, alongside a small cake with whipped cream frosting—something that looked suspiciously like a cake they once ate at the Ritz, and Crowley guessed that Aziraphale made it magically disappear from a five-star London kitchen, but he didn't mention anything. 

When they had seated, Crowley sniffed it and licked the pasta a little—he could understand why Aziraphale enjoyed it. It was savory and salty—but Crowley opted not to eat any of it. Instead, he sipped a nice glass of chardonnay as he watched Aziraphale delicately swirl the noodles onto his fork and slide them into his mouth. Crowley smiled when Aziraphale's pink tongue flickered over his lips. 

“You’re not eating anything, my dear,” Aziraphale said finally, sounding a little disappointed. “Not to your liking?”

Crowley felt warm, from wine and from watching his lover pornographically eat pasta. Was Aziraphale aware of how sensual he looked when he ate? Crowley didn’t think so, but on the other hand…Aziraphale was a little bit of a bastard. 

“Oh, this is very much to my liking,” he said with a devilish smile, and Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, is it—oh!” Aziraphale chirped and began to blush. 

Crowley chuckled and sipped his wine. “You put on a very good show. Could be a burlesque performer with nothing but a plate of fettuccine.”

“That reminds me, my dear,” Aziraphale said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “We need to go to London tomorrow. There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow with interest. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Well, I’d rather it be a surprise,” Aziraphale said, looking a little uncomfortable. 

Crowley inhaled deeply. Aziraphale was terrible at surprises—terrible at lying in any capacity, really, and getting him to admit whatever secret he was holding would be fun. Crowley was sure he could tease it out of him. Tie him up, let him squirm a bit…

His mind wandered briefly before he shook his head and came back to it. Best let the angel have his little surprise. Teasing could happen in other capacities. 

“London it is then,” Crowley said, and drained the rest of his wine. 

“Do you like it? The vintage? I chose it to go with the pasta,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley smacked his lips, and poured himself another glass, as well as top off Aziraphale’s. “I do, yeah. Not normally one for white wine, you know but this is….something.” 

Aziraphale smiled. “Cheers, my dear.”

“To what?” Crowley asked as he raised his glass. 

“To….the world?”

Crowley smiled. “ How about…To us.”

“Yes…to us,” Aziraphale agreed. The glasses clinked and they drank. 

“So,” Aziraphale said both had set their glasses down. “You are enjoying the pasta even though you aren’t eating the pasta?”

“Mmm, yes,” Crowley said, tilting his head to the side and smiling. 

Aziraphae licked his lips, and twirled pasta on his fork. He was nearly done, but could probably let this drag on for a bit, if Crowley liked it as much as it appeared. Once the pasta was wound tightly on the fork, he lifted it to his mouth, shut his lips around the utensil, closed his eyes, and very slowly slid the fork out. 

“Mmmmm,” he moaned, letting the flavors drift over his tongue. He chewed slowly, opening his eyes only after he swallowed. Crowley was leaning forward, eyes staring intently at Aziraphale’s mouth, looking like a snake waiting to bite its prey. 

Aziraphale chuckled softly. “Is there…something wrong, Crowley?”

“Mmm,” Crowley grunted in response, still not moving—not even breathing by the look of it, just watching Azriarphale. 

“I suppose I’ll take that as a no, then,” Aziraphale said as he picked up his plate, carrying it to the sink. He returned and looked at the cake, the whipped cream frosting having melted a little. He certainly could eat more, and decided he might as well continue indulging. He cut a piece for himself, and served it on a small dessert plate, a dollop of frosting falling onto the white china. 

"I suppose you can help yourself, if you want any," he said to Crowley, who said nothing in response. 

He set his plate down and almost absentmindedly dipped his index finger into the fallen frosting. 

“Waste not—“ he said as he scooped up the frosting with his finger, and he placed it in his mouth, delighting in the flavor as he pulled out the digit with a wet pop. 

That is when Crowley struck, like a snake coiled for too long and waiting for its chance. Aziraphale found himself rather forcefully (and perhaps somewhat magically) pushed against a wall, and before he could utter a surprised “oh!”, his lips were caught in Crowley’s, a snake tongue plunging its way deep into his mouth. 

“Mmmmm” was all Aziraphale could manage as he melted against the wall, letting Crowley press against him, slide his leg between his and press his thigh up. Firm hands against his shoulders held Aziraphale in place. 

“You are a tease,” Crowley snarled, as his mouth moved to Aziraphale’s neck, alternating between kisses and bites. 

“My dear, I hardly was doing it on purpose,” Aziraphale said with a laugh, and Crowley pulled back, his nose flaring. 

“You weren’t?” He asked, hesitation in his voice, and Aziraphale could sense that Crowley needed more encouragement. 

“I suppose I always subconsciously tease you, since I always want you,” he said, and after flashing a quick smile, Crowley’s lips and teeth were again on Aziraphale’s neck, sucking and biting harder now with even greater enthusiasm. 

“Ohh oh, yes dear, um…that’s…yes that’s rather…”Aziraphale was forgetting words left and right due to the the overwhelming sensations of demon mouth and demon erection pressing against his leg. 

“Bed,” Crowley said. It was not a question. Aziraphale shuddered. 

“R-right this way,” he said, catching his breath and finding his center of balance before moving forward. Crowley followed and soon the two of them were on the bed, naked and kissing desperately. 

“I want to be inside of you,” Crowley said, his tone a feral snarl. It made Aziraphale’s heart flutter with excitement. 

“My-my dear…” Aziraphale said, and he pushed Crowley back gently. “My dear perhaps…perhaps I can put something on that’s a little more…”—what was the phrase he had heard in motion pictures? Oh right—“comfortable?”

Crowley’s eyebrow raised, and he smiled like the fiend he was. “I would love that,” he said, and Aziraphale smiled. 

Aziraphale smiled, stood up and walked to the closet. 

“You can just use magic, you know,” Crowley said impatiently. 

“But that’s not as fun!” Aziraphale protested, and Crowley rolled his eyes. 

Aziraphale stepped into the closet, his view of the bed obstructed. He found the lingerie he’d worn before—the white leather number, and he with a bit of effort pulled it on and began to tie it up. 

“If we’re doing this the human way, I don’t suppose you have any…ah…supplies around?” Crowley asked, calling out from the bed.

Aziraphale thought for a moment. Oh, yes, he had stocked lubricant in the drawer on the nightstand. 

“The nightstand, dear,” he called out, while he gently pulled up his stockings. He heard some commotion in the room and smiled, thinking that Crowley had found the lube and was readying himself. Aziraphale quickly brushed his backside with his thumb, and did a minor miracle to make sure he was slightly more open. 

When he left the closet he saw Crowley, not holding a bottle of lube, but an old package, wrapped months and months ago. Aziraphale nearly forgot that he’d put that in the bedside table cabinet. 

Crowley looked at it curiously, and smiled at Aziraphale. 

“You look delicious,” Crowley said, his fingers tracing the edges of the box. “Is the lube in here?” he asked.

“Er…no, not quite. That was….a gift I bought for you. A long time ago.”

“Oh!” Crowley said with surprise, and looked down with renewed interest. “Should I…open it?”

“I…do wish you would. I’ve been waiting to give this to you for a long time, though I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Crowley smiled, and slowly ripped the paper from the box, tossing the scraps aside. Aziraphale bit his lip while Crowley slid the top of the box off, pushed aside the paper, and peered inside. 

Crowley blinked once. Looked up. Looked down. Looked up again. 

“Is this—-“

Aziraphale nodded. 

Crowley gulped and looked back down. 

“If you don’t…like it it’s okay, it was just an idea…”

“Oh, no. Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice was low, and he looked up, his eyes sparkling with eagerness. 

“We’re using this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HEY EVERYONE!
> 
> Did you miss this story? Are you mad at me it took so long to update? YELL AT ME IN THE COMMENTS! 
> 
> Did you enjoy this update and wish it had come sooner? STILL YELL AT ME IN THE COMMENTS!
> 
> I kind of kid, but, I apologize that life got in the way of this. Then coronavirus got in the way of life, so here I am, back on this ineffable husband stuff. 
> 
> I'm thinking of 2 more chapters to this UNLESS a bunch of people tell me they want more than that. Then maybe I will. But, I also have a lot of other ideas for other stories I haven't yet written (like my glory hole story). So, I guess we will see. 
> 
> Hope you all are hanging in there, and that this update brings you some joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated, and motivate me to write more!


End file.
